


but for me, there is a storm

by Authoress



Series: enter the hurricane [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!, Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: M/M, Multi, Pacific Rim AU, agender akaashi, aging everyone up to their 20's, also character deconstruction, also known as i fucked up and wrote a RLY RLY LONG fic, but noya tanaka and asahi have doctorates, daisuga are still papa and mama, everyone else is a secret, genderfluid kenma, ghost drift sex, it's official now, kagehina are the troublesome newbies, kagehina's jaeger is kind of unit 01 too, so don't read if u don't like psychic connections between pilots??, this isn't tsukiyama's first rodeo, ukatake in charge obvs, umm A LOT OF focus on the ghost drift, warnings for severe injury and death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-04
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-02-11 16:18:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 276,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2074782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Authoress/pseuds/Authoress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes you have to make choices you don’t like, or will regret into countless sleepless nights, and sometimes you’re just following orders. But if the other option is certain death for your entire species, you will make those decisions. That’s what it means to be a pilot.</p><p>…Or so Daichi and Sugawara keep telling themselves as they activate the two least compatible recruits for the much-needed third Jaeger assist. The kaiju are learning, evolving, and coming in faster than anyone is comfortable with, and the only option left is to evolve with them. Who knows? Maybe the rookies will be the ones to turn the tide of the war.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. a lesson in breathing

**Author's Note:**

> ummm so i wanted to write this 10 maybe 40,000 words, and it turns out i'm 40,000 words at the third chapter soooooo
> 
> here's this beast. i'm actually pretty proud, so please give it a shot and feedback, if you can! updates WILL be slow, but i'm going to pound out this fic for as long as i can
> 
> disclaimer: as usual, i have done minimal research, so if something is inaccurate u can either tell me or ignore.
> 
> EDIT: boy that sure is a Major Character Death warning on this fic. there are four in total. none of them are fun for anyone. if character death affects you badly and you are a first time reader, this fic is probably not for you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fic title is from [ **"Kolniður"** ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O_jdlbP8LaI) by Jónsi
> 
> chapter title is from [ **"Hotel Aquarium"** ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m-kW-RtR1O4) by Falling Up

It’s not all that often that the Marshal calls Daichi and Koushi into the big meeting room.

If he ever needs to speak to them, directly, without the aid of a runner, he’s most inclined to call them to the control room. That’s where he’s needed most of the time, and a man as important as the Marshal has no time to waste corralling his lead Rangers. He trusts everyone in that room with his life, the lives of his Rangers, and basically the whole human race, so there’s no need for secrecy there. It’s a feeling reciprocated by all the techs and Rangers as well. Everyone, from the latest batch of recruits, to the repair mechanics, to Takeda-sensei up in his lab is necessary to the war. A blanket of mutual trust among the inhabitants of the base is crucial to getting this dump of secondary base to function.

However, some state secrets and important strategy are better left to the ears of a select few. In that case, the Marshal tends to call his teams to his own personal quarters. They’re simple and hardly lived in—god knows the Marshal is up at all hours of the night on and off duty with the flick of a switch. The meetings there are brief and to the point, before the gathered are booted out as soon as possible. Daichi and Koushi have only been called to the big meeting room once, and that was when the first Category Four kaiju broke the surface of the Pacific, headed for Australia. The power triple in Darwin headed off the defense successfully before the kaiju could make landfall, but a Ranger was lost that day to the ocean and the wreckage of Geronimo Ace’s entire right side. His partner retired soon after, to no one’s surprise and everyone’s understanding.

So to be quite honest, the two Rangers aren’t all that thrilled to make this meeting.

Koushi is chewing his lip, eyebrows pressed together slightly. He doesn’t really want to betray his worry—especially to other members on the base—but the possible scenarios flicker through his mind quick as lightning, each one darker than the last. “What if it’s a Category Five?” He doesn’t wince at how hollow his voice sounds. He hasn’t heard anything on the news yet; surely that would be reported, right? But still…

“Hey.” Daichi nudges his shoulder and shoots his partner a comforting smile. “Asahi hasn’t said—”

“I know he hasn’t,” Koushi returns sharply, then feels bad for it. “God, Daichi, I’m sorry. It’s just…this can only be bad news, right?”

Daichi shrugs, but his smile doesn’t falter. “Well, you know Nishinoya hasn’t been around all that much, and he’s been acting really secretive. Maybe he was working on a project for the Marshal? Not that anything of that sort would keep him from blabbing to us.”

Koushi puts on his best brave face, although he knows Daichi can see right through him to the anxiety he tries to bury. It’s subconscious, at this point. The two instinctually test each other’s emotional and mental state all the time, but after four years together in the field (or ocean, really) Koushi can’t find it creepy. He needs the brush of his partner’s presence and the sweep of his attention as much as Daichi needs his. That’s what their partnership is built on; that’s why they’re the main team, the leaders.

They’re here.

Koushi takes a breath, letting Daichi’s warm and trustworthy presence calm him down. Daichi nods his approval, and taps the code in. Heavy metal doors part, and the pair step in.

Marshal Ukai is facing the screens wall, and Takeda-sensei is there as well, murmuring something low to him. The Marshal nods contemplatively, then turns to acknowledge his Rangers. The two straighten up instinctually under their leader’s gaze, and he nods again. “At ease, boys.” Takeda-sensei shoots them a wobbly smile.

“You wanted to see us, sir?” Daichi says, still maintaining good posture out of habit. Ukai sighs and drags a hand down his face. Koushi’s heart sinks with it.

“Situation’s getting rougher every day, though we already knew that. We’re not one of the primary bases—thank god—those are getting hit more often than anyone would like. I received word that another two Jaegers went down this month, taking their pilots with them.” Ukai pauses, and the room grows heavy with respectful silence. “I also hear that other secondary bases like our own have been visited more frequently. Category Twos and Threes mainly, but they still do their job, taking out infrastructure and civilians, and costing millions in Jaeger repair. Azumane’s not the only one predicting a rise in frequency of attacks either, you know.”

He turns to face the window, opening up into the Shatterdome. “We’re still pretty small, and we don’t get much funding since the kaiju tend to leave us be, for one reason or another, but things change. They’re getting bigger and smarter, so how long until they get bigger and smarter than us? That mad man Nishinoya seems to believe the kaiju are evolving based on their experiences fighting us.” Daichi and Koushi exchange glances. _So Noya_ has _been speaking with the Marshal._

“Well, if they’re going to evolve, then so will we. Secondary bases are required to hold a minimum of three Jaegers, and that’s fine for most of ‘em, but we’re short a team to pilot the third. With only two functional teams running defense, a Category Four could pick us off easy. Especially since we’ve got rookies as your assist.”

“Akaashi and Bokuto are away on a transfer to a primary base, too…” Daichi murmurs to himself.

“Are we getting a new team together, sir?” Koushi blurts. Marshal Ukai raises an eyebrow at him and walks over to the table in the center of the room, opening one of the file folders stacked on the edge.

“I’m getting there, Ranger,” he replies with a huff of amusement and Koushi goes scarlet. “We don’t really have the funds to hunt down a pair of seasoned veterans to take out our third, and she’d have to be calibrated and repaired and all that nonsense since she’s been inactive so long. However. A new solution has popped up, more or less.” He pulls a photo from the folder and shows the pair. “Doesn’t look like much right now since he’s still a work in progress, but in a few months he’ll be all put together and ready for Rangers.”

Koushi takes the photo and examines the Jaeger, while Daichi thumbs through the file folder. “He’s small,” Koushi concludes with surprise. “Probably a head and a half shorter than Apocalypto Alpha, and thinner, too. What’s with that?”

“Test type,” Daichi mumbles, having found the sketches of the finished Jaeger.

Takeda jumps in with a literal sparkle in his eye. “That’s right. He’s the first of his kind, completely unique. He’s a Test Mark as of now, since we’re really not sure if he’ll be up to par with the other, traditional Jaegers, but the government was willing to pay us to try. We designed him to be significantly lighter, more agile, and more responsive to the pilots. With luck and the right pilots, he could possibly be quicker than the Mark V Jaegers.” Takeda puffs up his chest in pride.

“Then what is the ‘test type’ part of this Jaeger? Seems fairly standard to me, why not just call it Mark VI?” Koushi presses.

The head scientist nods. “Very perceptive, Sugawara-san. Functioning on the basis of the idea that kaiju evolve through their experiences and pass it down through the hivemind to other kaiju, my scientists and I have sought out a way to enable the Jaeger to be variable enough to evolve in battle too. It was around the time we started throwing around ideas and looking for patrons to fund us, that I entertained a fascinating idea from one of the scientists in another department. He seemed to believe that by using kaiju materials and DNA, one could create an extremely versatile Jaeger with the potential to learn. An unholy combination of beast and machine, of sorts. I was fascinated by this completely insane idea, and by putting our heads together, we formed a design that just might work. A unique idea like this found private sponsors and even a little financial input from the Japanese government, so we were able to flesh out our idea. Literally.”

“Ah!” Daichi exclaims in understanding. “That’s where Nishinoya has been, then!”

Takeda-sensei grins. “He’s completely nuts, but he’s brilliant too. This project is his baby as much as it is mine.”

“Getting back to the point,” the Marshal breaks in, “we compiled a list of candidates that might be able to pilot this goddamn trainwreck of a Jaeger. It was a very short list to start out with, since a unique type like this requires an incredibly strong bond to pilot, but none of the candidate pairs have been able to hold it. Either they fall out of the Drift near immediately, or they suffer from unusual neural overload. It’s a real problem that many of our most promising recruits have been knocked out of commission temporarily with the danger level on the rise out there. We can’t figure out what the hell is causing the problem since everything seems normal enough until they settle into the Drift. Those who were able to hold on for a little while say that it feels too large a space and also too small at the same time. There’s some kind of pressure forcing them out, but it has to be mental since the readings are showing nothing out of the ordinary.”

“Hold on,” Koushi starts. “You’re not…you’re not going to ask us to—is that why we’re here?”

“God no,” Ukai stops his train of thought. “I would never risk my best pilots in a test type like that. But both Nishinoya and Takeda are convinced it can be done, and I’m willing to put my faith in them. That’s why I even agreed to this project in the first place. We have a last resort. There are two new recruits in training right now—both have some amazing abilities that would set them straight on the path to Rangers, however, they also have some major shortcomings that have prevented them from drifting successfully with another. To be honest, they’d probably be dropped from consideration as Rangers in the next couple of months anyway, so this is do or die for them as well. We’d like you to approach them with the chance to pilot the Test Mark and become Rangers.”

Marshal Ukai hands them each a thinner folder with the recruits’ information compiled in it. Koushi hums in interest and Daichi clicks his tongue disapprovingly. “It’ll be a real stretch to get them to cooperate, I apologize in advance,” the Marshal says. “They’re both strong personalities, and it’s doubtful they’re even Drift compatible. Even so, we want to give it a shot. Go fetch them after their lunch break tomorrow, make the offer, and for god’s sake try and get them onboard. Oh, and get that shrimp to show you around the test type first. Dismissed.”

The Rangers salute sharply, and turn to leave. Daichi hesitates. “Sir, what did you say the name of the Test Mark was?”

Ukai whistles. “I didn’t. But since you asked…” His smile is sharp. “Tyrant Omega.”

Daichi nods in acknowledgement and tests out the name on his tongue as he jogs to catch up to Koushi. _Tyrant Omega. A fitting name: both the underling of the Alpha, and a powerful contender to lead. Takeda must be proud. Well, we’ll see if this Jaeger can live up to such a promising title._

 

\--------------------------

 

_“Oi, watch out.”_

_“Look out, look out, he’s coming!~”_

_“Make way for the ‘king of the base’.”_

_“If you don’t bow down he’ll knock you out of the Drift in a heartbeat.”_

_“I heard that the headaches you get after Drifting with him are worse than migraines.”_

_“Oh? I heard he actually gave a kid a nosebleed.”_

_“Ehhh?! No way! I guess a selfish monarch like that doesn’t care as long as he can use you to maintain his perfect simulator score, huh?”_

It’s hard to tune out the whispers with halls that echo as much as the base’s do, but after months of training, Kageyama is quite adept. So what if the other recruits don’t like his style of training? He’s got the highest score in the simulator of his class and he’s surely the top pick for official Ranger training. If they pushed as hard as he did, worked until every muscle fiber and neuron in their body ached, they would be as good as him. _It’s just jealousy_ , Kageyama tells himself. But this jealousy hasn’t made him many friends.

That’s okay too, though. Friends would probably distract him from his training, and until he makes the cut as a Ranger and is seated comfortably in his own Jaeger, he needs to focus. Although the silence that greets him every time he walks into the mess hall is a little more than disturbing to his concentration. Sure, he could probably sit with his usual rotation, the one with the shallot-head guy and the sneaky weasel-faced one, but he prefers the solitude of the free gyms during lunch break. Occasionally, he spars with an invisible opponent, runs, or stretches before he eats. (Food tastes better after you’ve worked up a sweat, anyway.)

Today is no different. He hasn’t run in a while, and his legs are itching for a good workout. The indoor track should be open, in any case. He wanders past the Kwoon Room, but pauses and heads back once he passes it. He does want to run, but… Really, they only ever go in there if the Master is present or there’s a physical compatibility test going on, so he’s not really sure if recruits are allowed. But holding the staff in his hand and moving with it, using every muscle in alternations of balance and power, puts Kageyama’s mind at ease like nothing else can. He sneaks in with his lunch tray, tucking it into the corner and away from the mat. Padding over to the staff rack, he selects the one right for his height and lets out a long breath. The rod is heavy and smooth under his fingers, and it feels right. He warms up with a few test swings, maintaining perfect posture.

Kageyama’s about to launch a simple attack on the air in front of him when he hears a throat clear behind him. He whips around with a flush at being caught, when he notices the person behind him is leaning on the doorframe at ease. He’s clearly not intending on turning Kageyama in. The guy looks to be in his early twenties—not much older than Kageyama, actually—and he has an amused smile on his face. Before Kageyama can open his mouth to ask the guy what he wants, the other beats him to it. “Not sure newbies are really supposed to be in here on their own. You could get hurt, you know?”

Kageyama stiffens and narrows his eyes before recognition sets in, and then he’s wide-eyed and horrified. It’s Sawamura Daichi in front of him, co-pilot of Apocalypto Alpha, and half of the leading team of Rangers on the base. Kageyama didn’t recognize the guy out of uniform. “A-Apologies, sir!”

Daichi chuckles and waves his hand dismissively. “Relax, kid. I didn’t come here to rat you out for using the facilities during lunch hour.” He walks past Kageyama and over to the staff rack. He runs his fingers over them with a wistful smile on his face. “Nothing but good memories in this room. Sure, training’s a real pain and we worked some long hours in here until I couldn’t remember if I’d ever not been sweaty, but it’s also where I sparred with my partner for the first time. ‘Course, I kicked his ass almost every time, but the point’s not to win, it’s to forge a bond.”

Daichi glances back at Kageyama. “You can’t do this whole thing on your own.” It’s like being slapped in the face. Daichi has a knowing look in his eyes, which says he’s heard about how unpleasant a partner Kageyama is in the Drift. How he overworks his partners to move faster, think quicker, and push harder. Kageyama knows he’s a pusher, but he always figured one day he’d stumble upon the right partner who’d acquiesce to his needs and with whom he could be a casual but pleasant acquaintance.

“You’re probably thinking that eventually you’ll find the right partner. That they’ll be a subservient, non-presence in the back of your mind when you pilot a Jaeger. That you won’t have to really see or talk to them outside of your duties or for when you become a decorated war hero. Better yet, maybe they’ll find a way to work with a single pilot without the issues of neural overload one day. That’d be ideal, wouldn’t it?” Daichi has moved gradually closer and closer to Kageyama, who has backed away in return, ears burning and anger flaring.

“Let me tell you a little secret, rookie—they already tried that. It doesn’t work, it won’t work, it _can’t_ work. In order to be a Jaeger pilot, you _must_ rely on your partner, you _must_ connect with them, and you must _trust_ them. There’s no one-man-show in any base in the world, kiddo. Those that have run solo combat have paid or are paying with their lives. No one does it all on their own.” He puts an arm around Kageyama’s shoulders sympathetically.

“I’ve been hard on you—sorry. I just couldn’t believe my eyes when I read your file.” He waves the folder. “The very core of piloting is trust and teamwork; I didn’t understand how or why anyone would want to do it alone. But I guess you’re a special case.” He claps Kageyama on the back hard enough to make him stumble forward. Kageyama shoots him a glare and Daichi laughs. “That’s more like it. We need our Rangers to have spirit; god knows those rookies are way too uptight.”

Kageyama blinks once in confusion, and then he jerks up. “Wait…you need your _Rangers_ to have spirit?”

Daichi grins slyly. “That’s right. Kageyama Tobio, you may be the rumored ‘king of the base’ who cares for no one but himself, but your simulator scores are flawless, and you have a wide range of Drift compatibility—although no one is compatible with _you_ —not to mention you’ve excelled in your physical training. I’m not gonna lie to you—that attitude and personality of yours would put you out of the running as a Ranger for a normal Jaeger. Lucky for you though, the Marshal has a special offer: a new, Test Mark Jaeger with features completely new to the world of Jaeger designs. He’s an oddball, and apparently tough to Drift in, but we’ve put a lot faith in his abilities. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity…do you want in?”

Kageyama’s brain swam at “out of the running as a Ranger” and “Test Mark Jaeger”, but he latches on to the essential message behind Daichi’s speech which was _do you want to pilot a Jaeger?_ He opened and closed his mouth twice before sputtering, “Na—Of—Yes!”

_Couldn’t decide between ‘Naturally!’ and ‘Of course!’, huh?_ Daichi thinks to himself. _He might just be an okay guy._

“Come on then,” he said, gesturing with a nod and walking out. “Let’s go meet your new co-pilot and your brand new Jaeger.”

Kageyama sprints after him, still in a daze, but quickly shaking himself out of it in order to appear more professional. (Daichi laughs again. “Oh man, Suga’s gonna _love_ you.”)

 

Kageyama’s lunch tray remained in the corner of the Kwoon Room, cold and forgotten.

 

 ------------------------

 

“Out of meat buns again, huh?” Izumi shoots his dejected friend a sympathetic glance and pats him on the back. “Maybe if you stopped staying so late after the instructors released you, you would make it in time.”

Hinata goes from gloomy to belligerent in a tenth of a second. “But Izumin, my rotation is so crowded, and nobody is taking the training seriously. No matter how much our instructor yells at us, they never do anything. I have no one to fight and nothing to test my abilities against. Honestly, you and Kouji are the only ones I have worth training with.” Hinata wraps his arms around his knees. “Just because our rotation has the lowest potential doesn’t mean that we should give up hope. If we hone our bodies, minds, and abilities, even the least Drift compatible at least have _a shot_ at being a Ranger…”

Izumi and Kouji exchange worried glances. Hinata’s been pretty down as of late, and the fact that he trains with recruits so far beneath his level of ability with no motivation hasn’t helped a bit. _It’s not really fair_ , Izumi thinks. Hinata’s a stellar candidate for a Ranger. He’s a born fighter, quick on his feet and swift in his takedowns. What he lacks in strength and power he makes up for in sharp thinking and pure speed. He’s as slippery as an eel, but he has a hawk’s keen eye, and takes advantage of every opening. The one time his rotation trained in the Kwoon Room, he was the closest to beating the Master. Not only that, but both Izumi and Kouji have heard rumors that his skill in the simulator is unparalleled. He is innovative, careful of collateral damage, and takes down the kaiju as fast as possible. Kouji definitely heard one of the techs say he was inhumanly fast, too fast even for the Jaeger. Of course, with his low rank, both his insane score and the instructor’s notes of approval were lost under the weight of the other recruits’ potential.

Hinata just…couldn’t Drift. There was something about the way he tried to sync with his partner—maybe he was too overzealous or disruptive or _something_ , because he fell out of the Drift before the bridge could even fully form every time, without fail. Not that a setback even as significant as that would ever stop him from trying. Hinata was determined to be a pilot, and that was that. He had the drive, sure...but what Hinata really needed was the right peers to push him beyond his limits, force him to excel. In the right situation—well, his friends were sure that Hinata would shine brighter than any other recruits, no matter how Drift compatible they were.

It was because of this that they tried to help him in any way they could. The three had known each other since junior high, and honestly, it was only coincidence that they all ended up at the base together. But everyone had a different path. Izumi was trying to put his degree to use and become a tech for the base, crossing his fingers that he could make it in with the big boys in the control room as an intern. Kouji, who went to a trade school, signed up because the pay was good, and he needed to take care of his parents who lost their house in one of the kaiju attacks. And he was a pretty damn good mechanic, anyway, already in training to work repair on the Jaegers. Hinata’s was the brightest, most glorious path though, so his childhood friends would do what they could.

Both had been on school sports teams in high school, and kept up their fitness even after. They weren’t ideal sparring partners, but they were better than the lumps of flesh that occupied Hinata’s rotation. Any break that overlapped with Hinata’s was filled with shouts and the _clack_ of the short staffs Hinata had managed to sneak away into his room. And when all three overlapped, like at lunch, the guys took time to catch up.

But with Hinata’s cheery demeanor faltering, a solemn air hung over the group. Kouji shook himself from gloomy thoughts and ruffled Hinata’s hair affectionately. “Geez, Shou-chan, you just gonna let those calories sit in your gut and put fat on those bones? What’re you gonna do if all your muscles wither away because you sulked so much?”

Hinata leapt to his feet and huffed. “Like I’d ever let that happen!” He started jogging in place before glaring at Kouji as hard as he could (which was actually pretty cute, in a pathetic kind of way). “…And don’t call me Shou-chan.”

“Whatever you say, Shou-chan,” Izumi pipes in breezily, a serene smile on his face. Hinata growls at his two best friends, and the pair laugh at his attempt at ferocity. He ends up putting his hands on his hips, taking a deep breath and preparing to give them a tongue-lashing, when a soft voice stops him.

“Hinata Shouyou.”

He turns around in surprise, and then jumps a foot in the air. “Wah! You’re…you’re Sugawara Koushi, aren’t you?! Um,” he thinks for a moment before his eyes go wide as saucers. “I-I promise I was intending on returning the staffs to the Kwoon Room! S-soon! Today, actually! I just wanted to train a little more, sir!”

Koushi laughs lightly. “No need to be so jumpy. I am looking for you, but not for…that reason.” He tucks a strand of hair behind his ear, and Hinata figures that in person, this guy is really pretty beautiful. No wonder he’s got a lot of fans. _But what does he want with me?_

“Ah, I hope you’re finished with your lunch. I have somewhat urgent business that we must attend to. I apologize if I have interrupted.”

Hinata gulps. “ _We?_ ”

“Yes, we,” Koushi says with a smile. “But I can’t explain here. Top secret business, you know?”

Hinata’s eyes grow even wider, but he snaps to attention. “U-um, well, I have finished my lunch, so I guess I’m free to go? Sir.”

Koushi gestures for him to follow. “I’m glad. Ah, and no need for all that formality. Just Suga is fine.”

“Suga-san,” Hinata murmurs under his breath. He takes a step to follow, but then glances back to his friends, giving him confused but supportive smiles. Hinata kind of feels like he’ll never see them again.

Koushi notices this and adds, “Don’t worry, you aren’t in trouble. Quite the opposite, actually—I intend to explain on the way. There’s no need to worry.”

Hinata nods finally, after a long moment, and follows Koushi. “Good luck, Shou-chan,” Izumi says just loud enough for them both to hear. Hinata goes redder than his hair and flips them off, while Koushi hides a smile behind his hand.

 

\---------------

 

When they’re safely sealed into the cargo elevator, Koushi puts his hands on his hips and looks Hinata in the eyes. “So,” he says. “You want to be a Ranger.”

Hinata fidgets under the direct gaze, but gives a small nod. “I joined the training program here at this base because I wanted to be a Ranger. I felt so useless sitting at home while my parents worried themselves grey and Natsu cried alone in her room.” He straightens up. “I hate feeling helpless. I want to do something to help them. This is something I can do, so I’m going to put my mind, body, and soul into it.”

Well…that was all accurate. But truthfully, Hinata had once snuck out to see a televised kaiju-Jaeger battle. The smallest Mark V ever commissioned had been forced to defend not only Tokyo, but her two fallen assists, against a fierce Category Four. Despite the incredible odds against her, the Mark V was able to evade the kaiju’s attacks and deal a quick, powerful blow that killed it instantly. The crowd watching had erupted into cheers, and Hinata was swept away in their celebration as the news anchor spoke. _“Saving all three crews with their astonishing skills and bravery, the pilots of the Mark V Jaeger Small Giant have done it again…”_ Hinata had known instantly that he would become a pilot, or die trying. But that’s not what he told people.

Koushi nods thoughtfully. “All admirable reasons.” He opens and flips through Hinata’s file folder. “I’ve taken a good look through your file, and I’ve seen all the crazy stuff you can do that’s slipped under the radar. You’re pretty incredible, and you’ve got great aptitude to become a pilot—better than me, for sure, maybe better than Daichi or the ace kid at the top of the training program. Killer instincts are what win battles, and you’ve got them.” Hinata brightens under the praise.

Koushi sighs. “However, I’ve also seen your practical Drift compatibility. It’s abysmal, and we both know it. It’s very strange that someone of your talent would be so disinclined to the Jaeger program, especially since you have no history of mental trauma. Maybe you just need the right partner, but…” He sighs again. “You’ve got terrible odds, and you must know that. Don’t you think you should just give up and try for an easier, more suitable position? I bet you could become the Master of the Kwoon Room in no time flat. Why do you keep trying?”

Hinata is silent for a long moment. Then, he tilts his head to the side, expression neutral, and looks Koushi dead in the eyes. “I guess it’s like this: I haven’t been kicked out yet, right?” He shrugs. “Regardless of whether or not I can Drift, I have great aptitude for piloting—all the tests have shown that. And I haven’t been dropped from the program. As long as they’ll have me, I’ll keep pushing until I’m a pilot like you. I’ll do the simulator over and over, practice for hours and hours, even attempt to Drift until I feel like puking. There’s no point in giving up if there’s still a chance, right?”

He stares long and hard at Koushi, who holds a poker face for another long moment before breaking out into a smile. “God, I knew you’d be worth it. All that nonsense about testing…it doesn’t matter. I knew you had fire; you’ll make a great pilot. Don’t worry about the Drifting too much, you’ve already got a co-pilot, so we’ll just work you two into sync, I’ve seen it done before. Daichi’s training regimen is killer, but you’ve got the body and the ability for it. I’m really glad to have you aboard.”

Hinata stares at him blankly, the words registering but not computing in his mind. “…What?”

“Ah, sorry,” Koushi apologizes for the second time. “I’ve gone and rushed you into this. I just wanted to make sure you were really the type of guy I thought you were. And you passed my test!”

“I’ll make a great pilot?” Hinata asks weakly.

“Yes,” Koushi agrees. “I was told to summon you to the Shatterdome where you’ll see him. You and another recruit have been selected to attempt piloting the newly developed Test Mark, Tyrant Omega. I won’t lie to you—you two weren’t our first choice. In fact, you’re our _last_ choice. But if you can Drift successfully, and manage to pilot him, he’s all yours. He’s rather tricky though; knocked out our best recruits. We’re hoping that an oddball duo like you two can pull off a miracle.”

Hinata stumbles backwards a little bit. “I’m gonna be a pilot? My own Jaeger?” At Koushi’s nod of affirmation, he lights up and lets out a whoop of glee, before covering his mouth in embarrassment at doing such a childish thing in front of a _legend_. Koushi doesn’t seem to mind though, and glances up.

“Ah, we’re here.”

Recruits aren’t allowed into the Shatterdome under any circumstances until they are fully trained and on their way to becoming Rangers. And even then, they need at least one pilot or instructor keeping an eye on them. In the hangar holding humanity’s last hope, even the smallest mistake or accident could prove fatal to millions. Hinata had never actually _been_ in the Shatterdome, although he had seen pictures and fantasized, even to the point of putting a poster up in his dorm room.

“ _Oh!_ ”

Such a small expression of awe could not truly portray Hinata’s exhilaration at finally being allowed inside. The hangar was _huge_ —obviously, it had to be, but knowing that and seeing it firsthand were two different things entirely. He just had to spin around once to get the full feeling of the enormity of the building. And the _Jaegers_. Taller than skyscrapers, even, Hinata would bet. He had to tilt his head all the way up to catch a glance of Apocalypto Alpha’s face. To think that something that tall didn’t even scrape the roof! The entire place was buzzing, too—white coats with clipboards, grease coated engineers barking at each other for different tools, managers keeping tabs on materials, and materials being carted from Jaeger to Jaeger, in and out of cargo elevators. A cargo helicopter lowered itself through one of the ceiling doors, its blades creating a deafening echo that was challenged by the low rumble of voices and the _hiss_ and _whir_ of machinery. _The smell of electricity and motor oil,_ he thinks, breathing in deeply. Hinata was captivated. He was _in love_.

A shoulder roughly bumped into his, knocking him back a few steps. “Oops. Didn’t see you there, shorty.”

Hinata rubbed his shoulder and glanced up to see the smug look of someone he immediately categorized as _absolute bastard_. He was the one who “accidentally” bumped Hinata, although such a dismissive tone of voice revealed how much of accident it _wasn’t_. Unfortunately, he was intimidatingly tall and mean-looking, and Hinata had to bite back a yelp. A smaller, freckled guy appeared from behind him and sneered in a completely unintimidating way, though, so Hinata was able to compose himself.

“Who the he—”

“Oi, Suga. Shouldn’t you be keeping the pup on a leash? He might get lost or hurt,” tall-blond-and-bespectacled snipped at Koushi, cutting Hinata off. Freckles huffed in agreement.

“Hmm? Oh, Tsukishima,” Koushi replied sweetly. “Are you upset that you’re not the talk of the hangar anymore? No? Well, if you have time to spare, I think Daichi’s got a little something to keep even your mind occupied. What was that training regimen called again…ah, that’s right, The Remedy. I hear it’s strong enough to put even the most rambunctious of rookies out of their misery.”

Tsukishima narrowed his eyes at Koushi, and for a moment, the air felt like a fight. But the moment passed, and Tsukishima backed off with a click of his tongue, apparently more afraid of Daichi than of letting his pride hurt. He stalked off with a call of “Tadashi” thrown over his shoulder. Freckles—Tadashi, Hinata supposed—puffed up his chest and growled at Hinata, “You stay out of Tsukki’s way, hear?” before chasing down the blond. (“Coming, Tsukki!”)

Hinata watched them go, feeling strangely more irritated by that forty second encounter than by anything he’d ever experienced before. Koushi sighed and rubbed his head. “Sorry about that. Those rookies get braver every day. Soon enough, even the threat of Daichi won’t keep them in line.” He smiles apologetically.

“Well, you needed to get to know them anyway. That’s Tsukishima Kei, the pilot of Gold Strike, our only Mark V. He’s got a pretty bad personality, but after knowing him for a year, I guess I find him oddly tolerable. That little sidekick of his is Yamaguchi Tadashi, his co-pilot. He’s actually a sweetheart and a hard-worker, if he’d stop worshipping the ground Tsukishima walks on. Gotta respect him for clawing his way to the top, though. He had very little aptitude as a pilot, to start.” Koushi beckons for Hinata to follow. “They seem pretty dysfunctional if you think about it, and to be honest, I never asked them how they’re so drift compatible, but they’re a pretty dependable duo. They’ve been running flank for Daichi and I for a year now, about.”

He nods at one of the Jaegers. “That’s Gold Strike. He’s one of the fastest Mark V’s ever commissioned, and they put his speed to good use. Typically they do the initial blows and we deal the finishing one. Tsukishima’s probably just crabby that we get all the glory.” Hinata finds that he is grudgingly amazed at the elegant beauty of the Jaeger. Gold Strike is smooth and aerodynamic, all dark blues with the occasional silver plating and bright yellow detail lining that reminds Hinata of a lightning storm. He feels a little bad that such a powerful and regal machine has to be piloted by _those_ two jackasses.

Nodding to the other side of the hangar, Koushi tells him about the other Jaeger. “And of course, that beauty is Apocalypto Alpha. She’s a shining beacon of hope, and I do love her so. She’s a Mark IV, but she handles really well for something so heavy. She also packs the greatest payload of all the Jaegers I’ve ever seen, and she’s chock full of weapons and mechanical strength. I wouldn’t ride with any other girl.” He takes a moment to blink fondly at his Jaeger, a solidly built mecha of glimmering silver and peeling gold paint. She's unusual in her light coloring; most Jaeger designs favor dark colors and brighter details, but Suga-san is right, Hinata thinks. Apocalypto Alpha does look like a beacon of hope.

“She has two siblings, as well,” Koushi informs him. “Same exact design, different paint job, and an armory suited to their pilots. One’s away on transfer, though, and the other’s out of commission.”

Hinata glances around once more, peering down the hangar, but… “There’s only two?”

Koushi smiles knowingly. “Our third is in storage, and yours has its own hangar, branching off behind AA.” They come to another hangar door, this one large enough to accompany something very large, but not any of the Jaegers currently in the main hangar of the Shatterdome. Koushi taps in a code, and the doors part. They step in quickly, and the doors shut just as fast.

“We’re trying to keep this as quiet as possible,” Koushi explains. We don’t want the media latching onto any news of a new breed of Jaeger, especially if the project falls apart.”

_That’s right_ , Hinata remembers. _This is still only a test. I may never pilot a Jaeger yet…_ He shakes those thoughts from his head and follows Koushi around the corner. And then, he is floored.

His first thought is: _now I understand why the hangar doors are smaller_. And then, _he’s just a baby Jaeger_. True enough, Tyrant Omega was of smaller stature and thinner frame than the other two out in the Shatterdome. Half his side was draped in plastic curtains, and the echoes of machinery told Hinata that he wasn’t 100% complete just yet. Unlike the others, Tyrant Omega didn’t look completely mechanical. Hinata couldn’t put his finger on what exactly gave him that impression, but something about the dark, textured material that coated his outside along bright, reflective titanium gave a reptilian appearance to his structure. The body type, too, looked far more detailed to look like something real, something living…Hinata walked closer, entranced.

The strange, almost skin-looking material covered about half of Tyrant Omega’s body, in contrast with the silver and black painted metal that made up the other half. The alternation of metal and material made it look like he had…muscles, almost, like the metal was just armor protecting a dormant beast. Of course, Hinata knew that under that faux skin were gears and wires, pistons and engines that helped the machine to run. The illusion, however, was unsettling, almost to the point of disturbing. The head of the Jaeger was also covered in the clouded plastic of the curtains, and Hinata felt a bizarre sadness rise up in him that he couldn’t see the Jaeger’s face.

“He makes me nervous, to be honest,” Koushi admits quietly, from behind Hinata. “At least with the Jaegers, you know, they look…human. But that thing, I don’t know, it just has this _presence_. Like a wild animal or something, all I can think of is that it’s some kind of… _monster_.” Koushi shivers.

“He’s beautiful,” Hinata murmurs.

Koushi blinks at him in surprise, and Hinata turns to explain. “I mean, obviously, I can see why he’s a test type. He’s really grotesque, to be honest, like some kind of hybrid animal and machine. I get goosebumps looking at him, and it’s not exactly the good kind. But maybe that’s what we need. If something like this is on our side, what would the kaiju think? Maybe for once, they would be the ones afraid.”

He puts his hands on his hips and takes a deep breath. “It’s okay, Suga-san. You don’t need to be anxious about this Jaeger. With me as a pilot, I’ll make sure I’ve always got your back. I’m gonna make you rely on us, too, so please think of this Jaeger as the kid of the family, just raring to prove himself.” Hinata fixes him with a confident and warm smile, and Koushi finds that he has to shiver for an altogether different reason.

He puts a hand on Hinata’s shoulder. “I’ll be counting on you from now on, then.”

The two grin at each other before Koushi nods towards the small gathering of people at Tyrant Omega’s base. “C’mon. It’s about time you meet these guys. And your future co-pilot.” Hinata’s smile goes wobbly with nerves, and Koushi rolls his eyes and pushes him forward. “Don’t be chickening out now.”

When they get closer to the group, Koushi easily picks Daichi out from the crowd, and feels for him along their bond. Daichi blinks and looks over at him, giving a small wave. “Well, well, well. Look who decided to show up,” he calls to them, and the rest of the group look up. Koushi recognizes Takeda-sensei and his handful of trustworthy scientists that helped in the project. Surprisingly, Noya isn’t present. Koushi had thought he might have wanted to assess the pilots of his precious baby in person. Alongside Daichi is a younger guy with stiff posture and a foul expression. _That must be Kageyama Tobio, then,_ Koushi muses. _This_ will _be an odd pair._

“Where’s Noya at?” He asks by way of greeting. Daichi grins and looks up to the top of Tyrant Omega.

“Some slippery nonsense about calibrating the Conn-Pod to Omega’s ‘unique system’, or so he said,” Daichi snorts. “The fact that he wouldn’t meet my eyes _does_ kind of make that story sounds fishy, though, not gonna lie.”

“We can introduce them later I suppose,” Koushi sighs. “Speaking of, I’d like to introduce Hinata Shouyou, candidate pilot number I don’t know what.”

Hinata bows politely to Daichi and then—more hesitantly—to Kageyama, standing off to the side of Daichi and sizing him up. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sawamura-san and uh…”

“Kageyama Tobio. The other new candidate, I’m sure you’ve gathered. With luck, you two will be co-pilots. And please, just Daichi is fine,” Daichi replies.

Kageyama doesn’t say a word, but offers his hand. Hinata shakes it firmly, and Kageyama mutters, “Nice meeting you.”

_Geez_ , Hinata thinks. _That attitude makes you think he’d been asked to touch a leper. What’s this guy’s problem anyway? Working together’s gonna be tough…_

Kageyama releases his hand, but pauses. He tilts his head slightly at Hinata, who in return, looks him over curiously. Kageyama frowns in thought, and Hinata unconsciously mimics the action. “You look…” he starts.

“…Familiar,” Hinata finishes. He was thinking the same thing. Something about this guy’s sour face and the way he holds himself is eating at Hinata’s brain. Surely he hasn’t seen him before?

“Well,” Daichi breaks in. “This base is big, but it’s not that big. It’s definitely possible that you’ve run into each other, especially since you’ve both enlisted in the Ranger training program and test process. But to think that a noble would recognize a peasant, that’s something.” Koushi berates Daichi for his teasing in an urgent whisper, but Hinata's brain is already working.

That guy stiffens at the jab and his eyes narrow, and then it clicks. “’King of the base’,” he murmurs quietly. “Wow, to think I’d see a guy like that in the flesh.” He doesn’t mean for it to come out sounding as patronizing as it does; truthfully, the king’s supposed to be an amazing person, so that’s kind of cool. But he can tell he’s made a mistake by the sharp snap of Kageyama’s eyes to his, and then suddenly he’s shoved painfully against a metal wall with a _thunk_ , and the king’s face is way too close to his.

“What the hell did you say?” he snarls, and Hinata squeaks in response. “Don’t _ever_ call me by that name again.”

“Put me down,” Hinata growls, fear melting into irritation at being shoved around like a little kid. Aren’t they supposed to be partners now? Kageyama’s hold on his jacket tightens, and Hinata kicks at him. Hissing in pain, he drops him, and the two stare each other down.

“Hey,” Daichi calls in surprise. “What the hell are you guys doing?” Koushi jogs over to try and break it up, but they both shove his hand away when he rests it on their shoulders.

“Are you really a recruit?” Kageyama snaps. “I’ve never seen you anywhere around the training rooms and you’re not in my rotation. Why were you picked as my partner if you can’t even keep up with the basic training regimen?”

Hinata sees red. “Listen up, _asshole_. I’m the goddamn best in the Jaeger simulator, perfect marks and addends from my instructors verifying that I’ve got the instincts for the job. Not to mention I’ve wiped the floor with my entire rotation and a few others that challenged me to a round. I was pretty damn near taking down the Kwoon Room Master, too! What do you have that I don’t?”

Kageyama rolls his eyes. “Oh please, plenty of people have figured out the simulator, who cares if you got good marks? I’m the top of the class, and that includes you, dumbass! And for the record, I did beat the Master. I’ve also got the broadest range of Drift compatibility of all the recruits. What’re your scores anyway?”

Hinata falters. He opens his mouth, closes it, then looks away. Kageyama gets in his space, pressing. “Well?”

“12%,” Hinata mutters. Kageyama’s jaw drops and he sputters in disbelief.

“ _12%?!_ You do realize that the cut off to even be considered for a Ranger’s position is _75%_?” At this point Kageyama is practically foaming at the mouth. Their voices only get louder and louder, drawing the attention of a few mechanics.

“Guys, please,” Koushi begs. “Can’t we at least try to get along?”

But the two don’t hear him.

“Just because it’s that low doesn’t mean I can’t Drift! If I train hard I’ll be able too!”

“Imbecile! You need to actually have aptitude in order to be a pilot!”

“And I do! I have incredibly high aptitude to be a pilot, read my file.”

“Do you even underst—”

“SILENCE!”

Daichi’s voice booms loud enough to cut off Kageyama mid-yell. The two look up at him, and Koushi winces and sighs. “Now you’ve done it…”

The veteran pilot fixes the two with a ferocious smile that shakes them to their bones. He’s a hurricane with skin right now, and the calm exterior hides an overpowering fury at his subordinates. “You two seem to have forgotten two very, very important facts. One, you are not pilots yet. Two, in order to become pilots, _you have to work together_.” His voice rises sharply at the end. Koushi walks over and rests a hand on his arm, and he takes a deep breath.

“I’ve seen enough. Marshal Ukai put me and Suga in charge of beating you newbies into shape, and I thought that maybe we could work with what he’d given us. But with your attitudes, I realize now that it’s a futile task. So I’ve made a decision. Neither of you will be getting anywhere near Tyrant Omega until you can prove that you’re willing and able to participate as the close team that we need. Omega is _not_ like the other Jaegers, and he _does_ need an incredibly close bond to function, so if you can’t at least act civil with each other, we’ll start pulling people _off the street_ to replace you as candidates. God knows they’d have a better chance.

“We’ve lost a lot of good recruits and potential Rangers to this beast, all pairs better than the both of you. I don’t care what your strengths or weaknesses are. They don’t matter anymore, so just forget about all that bureaucratic nonsense they’ve been shoving down your throats. What really matters is your ability to cover for each other’s weaknesses and pool your strengths so that you’re stronger together than you ever would be alone.

“I don’t care how you do it. Spar, test Drift, talk it out if you have to. Whatever you do, figure out and improve your relationship if you ever want to get in a Jaeger. You both were a hair from getting kicked out of our training program, and you can just as easily be dismissed from _this_ program. I want to see major improvement by the time Tyrant Omega is complete and ready to be test run. If you’re not ready by then…you _will_ be discharged. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes sir,” Kageyama and Hinata reply in unison. They won’t look at each other. Daichi deflates a little, disappointment heavy on his face. Koushi peers at him in concern, and Daichi raises an eyebrow at his partner.

“Suga, don’t you go helping them either. This is something they’ve got to figure out themselves, and you won’t do them any good holding their hands,” Daichi rumbles, giving Koushi a knowing look. The other hesitates, then gives a small nod.

“Alright you two,” Koushi says, turning to them. “You’re dismissed.”

“One last thing,” Daichi says, as they turn to leave. “You’ll be staying in the same room, Rangers’ quarters, starting tomorrow. So get packed up.”

The two Rangers watch their looks of disdain and surreptitious glances at each other as they depart, a wide berth between them. Koushi leans his head on Daichi’s shoulder, and the physical connection soothes them both. “What’re we going to do?” Koushi sighs.

Daichi rubs his face with his hand. “I really don’t know. At least Tsukishima and Yamaguchi only rubbed us the wrong way, not each other. I haven’t the slightest clue how we’re going to get them to cooperate. Ah, Noya’s gonna be pretty down. He put a lot of effort into this project.”

“Let’s not give up just yet,” Koushi presses.

“Oh, I haven’t given up on them, don’t worry. They’ve got the fire and the drive to do amazing things. If they could just _bond_ , I feel like the sum of their power could really do some great things. Hinata’s got the natural talent and restless energy and conviction. If Kageyama could harness that and strategize for them, hell, we might be out of a job as the main team. But they’ve got to get past their personalities and their demons first.”

Koushi nods in agreement. “C’mon, the Marshal will want a report, no matter how disastrous.”

 

\------------

 

That evening, both friends and enemies alike gave Hinata and Kageyama their space. The usual taunts of ‘king of the base’ fell unspoken from the other recruits, and a nervous fear settled instead, with one look at his expression of broiling fury. Hinata’s companions probed at their friend’s unusually malevolent countenance, but a few sharp, clipped answers had them bidding him goodnight with worry in their eyes and voices.

Despite their reluctance, both heeded Daichi’s advice and miserably packed up their belongings, ignoring the curious glances of their roommates. Hinata’s supposed the poor kid finally got kicked out, with a disastrous sync score as his. Kageyama’s whispered that he’d threatened, no, hurt, no, _killed_ a major officer and was getting stuck in a mental institution.

In any case, the two fell asleep with the same thought in their heads:

_How will I ever—_

_—get along with a guy like that?_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've changed how the boys address each other--though i tried to keep them mostly the same--but some of them, like Tsukishima calling Yamaguchi "Tadashi" are for a reason that is to be revealed later on~


	2. the moon shows you're in reverse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mmhmmm i haven't looked at this in forever gomen if there are typos *boycotts chapter summaries*
> 
> (and here we also see the jump from under 10,000 words to over 10,000 words for the rest of the fic cries)
> 
> OH YEAH and thank you everyone who has commented/left kudos on my work!! I was really surprised by the warm reception this fic got, and you guys have really made me excited to continue!!

Hinata arrives at their new room first, which irks Kageyama more than it probably should.

When he unlocks the door and steps inside, he sees Hinata stop mid-pace in the living room area to lock eyes with him. They regard each other with chilly expressions, before Hinata speaks up. “Right or left?” Kageyama blinks in confusion, but before he is able to snap at the redhead, Hinata gestures to another room. Kageyama steps inside and peers around the corner.

It’s a bedroom. There are two double beds with a thin rug in between them and two small night tables crammed together. It’s not like the bunk beds they’re used to in the recruits’ dorms, but they look more comfortable than those glorified cots, so Kageyama approves. At that moment, he realizes that Hinata has yet to move in. Turning around, he notes the two cardboard boxes lying on the table in the living room that Hinata has been pacing behind. The guy fixes him with an indignant glare. “What?”

Kageyama ignores his question and grumbles “right” before turning back to their room and starting to unpack his stuff. Hinata is strangely cooperative—Kageyama was sure he’d argue over that—instead opting to unpack his belongings as well. He edges past Kageyama and accidentally brushes him, causing them both to recoil with a hiss, as if burned. No more words are spoken.

Their quarters aren’t that bad at all—to the right is a small kitchen with the basic amenities, and to the left is the table Kageyama assumes is for eating breakfast. Straight back, they have a couch, a small TV, and even a porthole window. However, from the dust on the television and the neatness of the couch, Kageyama can tell that they’re hardly utilized. The room past the kitchen is their bedroom, and past the table is the bathroom. He examines the bathroom once he’s unpacked all his clothes and few other belongings. It’s not incredibly spacious, but the soaking tub looks nice and Kageyama sighs in appreciation. He’s needed a good soak for a while, with his muscles sore from training so hard.

When he comes back out, Hinata’s fiddling with the fridge and freezer, shoving some food in there that Kageyama imagines he’s been saving for later. He quirks an eyebrow, but Hinata doesn’t explain when he closes the door. There’s a sudden knocking at the door, and Hinata bounds over to answer it. He opens it to reveal a surprisingly peppy Koushi. “Suga-san!” Hinata barks in surprise.

“Good morning, you two. I hope you’ve settled in well. May I come in?” Hinata makes way for the Ranger, and he steps inside.

Recalling Daichi’s words from yesterday, Hinata furrows his eyebrows. “Didn’t Daichi-san say…not to help us? Won’t you get in trouble if he finds out you’re here?”

Koushi waves a hand dismissively. “It’s fine, it’s fine. Daichi knows I never listen to him anyway,” he says with a wink and the smile of a person who has gotten away with a lot in the past. “Besides, I’m only here to check in with you two, make sure you haven’t torn each other’s throats out.”

Hinata slides a glance at Kageyama, who completely ignores him. “That’s what I thought,” Koushi sighs. “Well, might as well go over the basics anyway. You two are not recruits anymore, so you no longer have to attend the training program. However, you’re also not training as pilots either, until Daichi gives you the go-ahead, so you’ve got to stay in shape somehow. All the gyms are open to you guys, as well as the Kwoon Combat Room. We’ve also got a few soundproof meditation rooms, and there’s always the simulator or the test pods, though I doubt you two will choose the latter.” Hinata doesn’t meet his eyes, and Kageyama scoffs. Koushi’s heart sinks a little lower.

“I have my own training regimen,” Kageyama cuts in. “I’ve been doing that in my free time, but now that I’m not a recruit, I can focus solely on it.”

Hinata jumps in. “I’ve got skills I’d like to hone, too!”

 _But neither of you mentioned training together,_ Koushi thinks. “That’s a good place to start. But, if you find that you’re not getting much out of your work-outs, I suggest you go to the Kwoon Room. Together.”

He twitches a bit and gives the newbies a nervous smile. “Ah, well, Daichi’s probably missing me by now, so I’ll see you two later. Oh, and these are for you.” He hands them each an armful of folded clothes. “You’re not Rangers yet…but you _are_ on your way.” And with that mysterious message, Koushi disappears out of their room.

Hinata gasps in awe at the gift. It’s a set of clothes emblazoned with the logo of the in-training pilots, different from the one given to recruits. He’s ecstatic, practically bouncing up and down, while Kageyama rifles through his with interest. They split up to change into their new training gear.

Hinata’s putting on his running shoes, planning to jog around the base a few times before settling in to the simulator. Seeing Tyrant Omega and the other Jaegers lit a fire in his heart and he wants nothing more to be moving one of those incredible machines, taking down a kaiju. His fingers itch for the controls, so he’s going to settle his mind and probably try to deal with the Kageyama problem before slipping in to run a few drops.

Noting the running shoes, Kageyama passes on running today, favoring working on his muscle strength instead. Something about Tyrant Omega really got to him. He was smaller for sure, but somehow, Kageyama felt he had to be stronger with him than the other Jaegers. Not to mention Daichi had told him that other more experienced and more prepared pilots had ended up hospitalized trying to pilot him. Kageyama needed to become even stronger if he was going to do it himself, especially if he had to drag _that_ dead weight around.

Snorting to himself, Kageyama leaves first. As long as Hinata could Drift with him, at least a little bit, Kageyama could power through and make the Jaeger run. He just couldn’t understand why the Marshal would have selected someone who couldn’t even Drift as a candidate. What was so special about him anyway?

A gust of air and a blur of orange hair races past Kageyama in a whirlwind of energy. Stunned, Kageyama has to pause a second for his brain to compute that it was Hinata who had blown past him, as if reading his mind. Another second, and he was picking up speed, refusing to let that shorty overtake him in anything. Longer legs meant that he caught up to Hinata in a minute or two, and then the two were racing, snarling insults at each other and blowing past other early birds without a care. Kageyama might have had the height advantage, but he was surprised to see that his shrimp of a partner was a powerhouse of speed and determination, and it wasn’t long until he had to push himself to his limits just to keep up. Swerving to avoid someone caught in the middle of the hallway, Kageyama pushed in front of Hinata with a yell.

The bystander in the middle of the hallway, however, was less of a casualty caught in the war between the two newbies, but rather an active antagonist who found himself too surprised to act and too proud to step out of the way. Tsukishima watched the two disappear down the hallway, jostling for position, and taking their noise with them. He still didn’t move, even as the people pushed to the side muttered amongst themselves and went on their ways.

“Tadashi, let go of my jacket,” he says flatly, not deigning to look at his partner. As someone who actually had a survival instinct, Yamaguchi had attached himself to the mountain that was Tsukishima, and hoped that he would shield him from the tidal wave of Kageyama and Hinata. Peeking around his involuntary bodyguard, Yamaguchi released Tsukishima’s jacket.

“Sorry, Tsukki. Those guys have a kind of frightening energy, huh?” He murmured, following Tsukishima’s gaze.

“Haaaaa?” Tsukishima stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets. “They’re a real pain. I don’t want them running assist with us, they’ll only get in our way.” He turns away, walking the other direction. “Doesn’t really matter, though. They’re going to combust anyway; we don’t even have to meddle. Clashing personalities like that will never be Drift compatible.”

Yamaguchi darts after his partner. “Really, you think so?” He hums in thought. “But it did kind of seem like they complement each other well.”

Tsukishima cuffs him. “Idiot. Don’t think about them so much, you’re giving me a headache. Let’s go get breakfast.”

 

\---------------------------------

 

By the time the lunch bell rings, Kageyama’s lost count of the number of pull-ups again.

“Shit,” he mutters to himself, more in irritation at his lack of focus than anything else. He’s never had trouble working out by himself before, in fact, he always feels more focused. Today was even shaping up to be a good day, despite dealing with his own personal demon this morning. His old rotation had shown up at his gym for classes, and he had watched more than one face drain of color seeing that he was still around, and then flush red when they saw the logo on his tank. A pretty nice ‘fuck you’, if Kageyama did say so himself. He turned his back on them then, and continued with his routine.

 _See?_ He thought to himself. _Hard work really does pay off. So what if I sacrificed some people on the way. I’m one step closer to my goal, and I owe it all to my dedication. Slackers who only sneer at those better than them don’t go anywhere._

But if slackers didn’t get anywhere…then why was Hinata his partner? He didn’t really know a thing about the guy, but surely he was making up all that stuff to make himself sound better. Kageyama had never seen him any of his past rotations. If he really had good instincts and real talent like he claimed, wouldn’t he have been moved up regardless of his sync scores? They wouldn’t have held him back just because of his Drift compatibility, right?

But it was that uncertainty, the possibility that maybe Kageyama was wrong that ate at him and disturbed his concentration. In all likelihood, Hinata was suffering from alpha male syndrome, and was trying to appear like he was the top dog. Someone as small as him couldn’t be at the same level as Kageyama. He can’t help thinking back to this morning though. Hinata’s physical ability matched his, somehow, and he had a _presence_. It knocked Kageyama over at first, but when he was really, really putting himself out there, Hinata felt like a thousand strong men rolled into one. It was contradictory and confusing. It was maddening.

Half the problem was that the harder Kageyama thought about Hinata, the further his mind drifted from his workout. Realizing how distracted he’d been by the other, Kageyama would then be fired up in anger, and be incredibly productive for a time before his mind drifted off, and the cycle began again. It just wasn’t working today. However, the other option was…unthinkable. Just because the guy was plaguing his thoughts didn’t mean he wanted to be in his presence.

Kageyama drops from the pull up bar with a heavy sigh. He heads to the mat in the middle of the gym and decides to work on his gymnastics a little bit. However, after only a few routines, he finds himself landing unbalanced at the other corner of the mat, and he feels a prickling of concern for his safety. God, well, if he can’t even focus on a simple routine he might as well as take his frustration out on something. And what would be better to beat the crap out of than the source of his problems?

Hunting down Hinata would probably prove to be more of a challenge than he expected, Kageyama realizes, after he does not find him on the indoor track. He knew that the guy was going running from his shoes, but Kageyama has no idea what _his_ routine is, or if he even has one. He doesn’t even know where to begin looking for Hinata. How incredibly exasperating. Although Kageyama figures he has no one but himself to blame. The lunch bell rings one final time, and he heads to the mess hall—a protein shake or some meat buns would certainly alleviate his slow-brewing headache.

Fate decides to cut him a break (or just make things worse) when he turns the corner to the mess hall passage and finds himself faced with the exact person he’d been looking for. Hinata straightens up when he sees Kageyama, and they meet halfway. Face-to-face, however, all the words in Kageyama’s head fly out. Hinata huffs and crosses his arms in a pose that makes him look childish, even as an adult. And then Kageyama remembers, _oh yeah, I kind of really despise this guy_.

“Where the hell wer—?”

“I was looking f—”

They speak at the same time, and since doing anything in unison is something of a crime to them, they sneer at each other in distaste. The two stare long and hard, not moving, and Kageyama has to wonder if speaking first will make him the winner or the loser.

And then, someone bumps into him, and the spell is broken. Kageyama realizes that they’re standing in the middle of the most crowded hallway at this time of day, and his ears burn. Hinata glances around, too, sighing in annoyance. “C’mon, idiot, we’re creating a traffic jam.” He shoves his way through the lunch rush to a connecting passage, Kageyama in his wake.

Hinata settles against the wall, slouching and looking for all the world as if he doesn’t give a damn that Kageyama is standing in front of him. But Kageyama sees the flutter of his fingers on his arm and the jitter in his foot, and his anxiety is given away. “So,” he starts. “You were looking for me?”

Kageyama shrugs one shoulder. “I checked the indoor track and then I left for lunch.” A non-answer, but he’s not required to give this guy a proper response anyway.

Hinata raised an eyebrow. “Haaa? Like I would be there. If you mean my typical running track, I make my way around the perimeter of the base a few times to warm up every morning. And I wasn’t even there that long; I was in the simulator all day.” Kageyama tries not to let his surprise show. The perimeter of the base isn’t exactly small. Even when he runs, he just uses the indoor track. This guy…well, taking a closer look at him, Kageyama thinks he’s probably the type to run outside around the base in any kind of weather, be it a shower or a blizzard.

Hinata rolls his eyes. “You think so highly of me, I can tell.” His cocky demeanor falls away, and then the nervous kid Kageyama had seen in the Shatterdome appears. “Um, well anyway, I was thinking about was Suga-san said earlier. You know, about the Kwoon Room? At first, I was like ‘uwah! I don’t want to go anywhere with that guy!’ But then, I just kept getting distracted in the middle of a simulated mission that the techs kicked me out for fooling around.”

Kageyama snorts, but Hinata presses on, flushing. “So I thought it over on the way to the mess, and I decided that if it was Suga-san’s idea, it was probably a good one, so I wanted to give it a shot!” He looks at Kageyama expectantly and the other sighs.

“Well I wouldn’t mind kicking you around a bit, to be honest. Might help fix my damn concentration,” he acquiesces, and Hinata jumps up.

“Come on, then,” Hinata presses. “Unless you don’t mind being the last one there, of course.”

 _Sly bastard_ , Kageyama curses to himself, but takes the bait anyway. (Hinata wins with a whoop and hands thrown in the air; Kageyama loudly chalks it up to a headstart.)

Hinata sheds his jacket once they step into the room and pulls the doors for some privacy. Kageyama tries not to look too much like he’s sizing up Hinata’s physical condition. The guy is short and thin for sure, but all his muscle is smooth and lithe, the kind you build from training night and day in martial arts and the specialty classes offered at the base. He taps his fingers on his leg as he chooses a staff (definitely a nervous tic, then), selecting one and testing its weight and length with a few measured swings. Kageyama grudgingly admits that he’s in good shape, and from the way he handles the staff, he wasn’t joking about nearly taking down the Master. And she’s no one to scoff at.

“If you’d quit looking at me like I’m a piece of meat,” Hinata states in a flat voice, “and actually get over here, maybe we could get started.” He points the staff at Kageyama in challenge, and Kageyama bristles at being caught. He tosses his jacket to the side and rolls his shoulders, picking out his staff without looking, keeping his eyes on Hinata.

“You’re perceptive, I’ll give you that,” he mutters. _Annoying._

Hinata blinks and lowers his staff in surprise. “Huh? Oh, not really. Kouji and Izumin tell me all the time to actually pay attention to my surroundings and not do reckless things. You just give off a really creepy aura when you’re focused on something, how could I not notice?” Kageyama frowns at that and spins his staff, setting himself in a starting position.

“Whatever. Shut up and show me what you’re made of, dumbass.”

Hinata’s swings are exactly the way he described: reckless. He’s incredibly swift and deft in his movements, but they’re still kind of choppy and predictable. Hinata also yells when he strikes and grunts when he’s blocked, which rattles Kageyama’s brain in a way that increases the intensity of his headache. In a matter of seconds, he has Hinata on the ground, checked. “1-0, me,” Kageyama says.

Hinata leaps to his feet from lying down as soon as Kageyama releases him. “Again,” he says softly, eyes darting around to watch Kageyama’s movement. Kageyama obliges, and this time, Hinata hesitates at a key moment, allowing Kageyama to press his staff at his side.

“2-0, me,” Kageyama says in a monotone, raising his eyebrow. Hinata doesn’t seem too upset or disturbed, though. He’s thinking with a furrowed brow, but raises his staff nevertheless.

“Again,” he says, stronger this time. Kageyama rushes him, cutting at him over his head and forcing him to defend. Hinata goes in for a strike at his stomach, and Kageyama effortlessly drops to block such an easy shot. But then, Hinata uses the momentum of his block to roll past him and strike out at his exposed back, staff resting perpendicular to his spine. Kageyama looks behind him in surprise. Hinata has a small smile, and raises his eyebrow at Kageyama in return.

“1-2, you,” he says, and in his voice is the unspoken, _are you seeing me now?_

Kageyama turns to face him, raising his guard and taking a different stance, the one he uses when he’s unsure of his opponents ability, but thinks them to be strong. _I have to take him seriously,_ Kageyama is surprised to find himself thinking. _If I give him any opening, show any weakness or complacency, he will utilize it_. Cracking his neck, Kageyama tenses in preparation. “Again,” he murmurs, and when they next collide, he swears he can hear Hinata laugh.

 

\----------------------------

 

Daichi finds Koushi by the closed Kwoon Room doors after a long hour of searching and feeling for him to no avail. Intuition had drawn him to the combat room, and he has to smile despite his exasperation at not being able to find his partner. The Ghost Drift might be a powerful tool that can truly unite two pilots, but good old human instincts weren’t a bad consolation prize. Koushi is smiling brightly as he peeks through a crack in the door. The muffled noise coming from inside the room is enough of a hint to who is inside, and really, who else would Suga be spying on? Daichi reaches for his partner across the hallway, slow enough not to startle him. Koushi’s eyes widen for a second, and then his smile settles into fondness. He turns to Daichi, and Daichi senses his remorse at making his partner worry. He forgives with the shrug of one shoulder, and Koushi waves him over with a nod.

He crouches down next to Koushi and whispers in his ear, “What’s going on in there?”

Koushi settles against him and gives him a mischievous look. “From what I gather, they’ve been locked in a fierce battle since the lunch bell. Kageyama’s got the lead—obviously—but Hinata is dogged, and his spirit is finally wearing down Kageyama’s whole ‘tough guy’ exterior. They’ve actually been talking, too, like civil human beings. Well. At times.” He peeks through the slant of light again and Daichi pauses.

“I won’t lie, I’m glad that they’re making progress after such a short time,” he says slowly, “but I wonder where they got the idea to use the Kwoon Room. New pilots hardly use it at first, except for initial testing of Drift compatibility. How on earth could they know it forges and strengthens their connection?”

Koushi doesn’t make any physical movement, but he’s not quick enough to stop the mental flinch that ripples across their bond. “I haven’t the faintest idea,” he lies calmly.

Daichi nudges Koushi’s shoulder. “I’m not mad. I kind of figured you’d step in, regardless of what I said. This’ll help speed up the process, too. It’s a good call, Suga.”

Koushi warms a little at that, and gestures once more to the crack in the door. “Come on, take a look yourself.” Daichi does as he’s bid, peering in to the room lit by only a few stray lights. It was getting late, and all nonessential personnel had retired from their work, or were winding down. But from what he can tell, the two newbies are still raring to go.

“Again!” Hinata yells, waving his staff childishly.

“No way, you moron! The score is 73-54, me, and there’s no way you can make up that losing streak before lights out. Give it up already!”

“Nuh-uh, the score is way closer if you tally up my other scores!”

“Idiot, we both agreed to start from scratch whenever one of us hit one hundred! Or have I beaten you so bad that your brain is no longer functioning?”

“YOU’RE the idiot, _Baka_ geyama! Is that the sound of someone throwing in the towel?”

“Why, you little…!”

The two break into another round of sparring, a little rough around the edges from what Daichi assumes has been a non-stop duel. They’re soaked through with sweat, even Hinata’s wild hair somewhat flattened. They whirl around each other, both of them screaming with their strikes and hissing when caught in a lock of strength. Eventually, Kageyama sweeps Hinata’s feet from under him, and the boy crashes to the floor with a huff. Kageyama shoves his staff right under his partner’s chin, forcing Hinata to look at him, despite his arm shaking from the effort of constant battle.

“See? That’s 74-54, me,” he growls. “You’re no match for me, not with your level of skill. For every point you earn, I check you three times. You need way more training until you can even stand to challenge me.” He narrows his eyes. “I’m not going to test Drift with you until you can check me five times in a row.”

“What the heck? How is that fair?” Hinata snaps, shoving the staff away and jumping up. “Since when do you get to make the demands?”

Kageyama gives him a knowing look. “Since I wiped the floor with you.”

Hinata has nothing to say that. He puts his staff back on the rack, and Kageyama supposes that is that. He is mistaken.

“Oi, Kageyama,” Hinata calls. The other looks back at him and his breath catches. Hinata doesn’t look chastised, or even beaten, really. His eyes are fierce golden fire, and he looks at Kageyama so intensely, he feels like he needs to look away. Hinata rubs his head, but does not break eye contact.

“You know…you might have won that round. But don’t you think you’re underestimating me a little bit? I’d look out if I were you. Remember, the gap between us isn’t _too_ big. Next time, I’ll be the one to wipe the floor with you.” And with that final warning, Hinata scoops up his jacket and discarded tank, and pads out the back door without hazarding a glance back. Kageyama watches him leave, speechless, standing still long after he leaves.

Koushi, on the other hand, is worrying his lip again. “I don’t envy those two, being cooped up together tonight, for the first time,” he whispers. “I hope this is alright…”

Daichi laughs lightly. “What are you talking about? That’s great news. With an ultimatum like that, Kageyama’s sure to take him up on the challenge. Looks like I won’t have to give them a training regimen after all. Think about it. Yesterday, they wouldn’t even look at each other or acknowledge each other’s existence. And now, they’re talking, training together, and using each other’s talents to better themselves. What part of that seems worrisome to you?”

“But, a rivalry…” Koushi starts.

“…can just as easily morph into an untouchable bond of partnership. A thin line between hate and love, right? They’ve taken the jump, now we just need to wait it out. Hinata has his claws in Kageyama, and Kageyama’s getting some serious whiplash about his initial impressions of Hinata. There’s no way they’ll leave each other alone at this rate.”

And he was right.

Kageyama walks into their quarters to find all the lights turned off. He curses and flips a few of the switches. Grabbing a water bottle from the fridge, he wastes no time locking himself in the bathroom for a long soak. Kageyama’s found that it’s nice to wash off all the grime from a hard day’s work. And it _was_ hard work. Kageyama would never admit it, but that shorty had pretty damn near limitless stamina. He had been having trouble keeping up towards the end, getting out of breath quicker and muscles shaking more visibly. It was only his years of training and survival instinct that had kept him going. He’d have to build up a training regimen to boost his stamina…

 _Well, that’s if that brat will leave me alone for a single second_ , Kageyama thinks, lowering himself into the tub. _The fire in his eyes…he meant those words_. Kageyama would be working himself to the bone every day from now on until either the shorty was satisfied or Kageyama gave out. And the latter option was _never_ going to happen. He hadn’t been wrong—Hinata was far from him in terms of skill, but he made up for it with determination and natural ability. It really pissed Kageyama off.

Snarling to himself, Kageyama yanked himself out of the tub much sooner than he would have liked. He was never going to relax if Hinata kept plaguing his mind. He might as well go to sleep. Kageyama dried himself off and tucked the towel around his waist. Turning off the lights in the main room, he padded to their bedroom, feeling his way to his bed. A press of a button, and then his reading light flickered on, revealing a curled up Hinata, drooling slightly on the sheets on the bed next to him. (Kageyama didn’t jump. No _way_.)

The guy hadn’t even managed to crawl under the covers, and his clothes were strewn haphazardly on his side of the room. Kageyama gave a disgusted sniff of disdain, and pulled out a pair of boxers and a large t-shirt, making sure to neatly tuck his clothes away, as if getting some invisible revenge on Hinata. He changed quickly, hung up his towel, and settled into bed, turning his back to the redhead. Exhaustion took him over rather quickly, and Kageyama fell asleep frowning, with the words _never gonna wipe the floor with me_ echoing in his mind.

He wasn’t entirely wrong, but by the next evening, Hinata sat a triumphant few points higher than Kageyama by lights out.

And so the dance went on.

 

\----------------------------

 

It sort of became a routine to them.

Kageyama was able to ignore Hinata’s early morning runs for all of two days before he wordlessly joined him. Hinata never said anything to him about it, and for that Kageyama was grateful. Their run always started out at a nice, even pace until they got outside. From there, their competitive spirits shone through, and every slight lead was taken as a threat, culminating in an all-out race to finish a lap. Inevitably exhausted, the two would then steady back into a jog for another two laps until they got too comfortable.

By the time breakfast rolls around, they’re already panting; the first in line to eat and the first to leave, Daichi and Koushi hardly even had a chance to greet them at breakfast before they were off to the next task on their schedule. Their brevity with both the veterans and their acquaintances left many raised eyebrows. The two guys from earlier, introducing themselves as Hinata’s friends Kouji and Izumi, actually approached Koushi (albeit a bit nervously) and asked him if everything was alright with Hinata and that tall, scary guy he was yelling at. Koushi assured them that they were getting along just fine, despite their dubious looks and Koushi's own doubts. And Daichi had heard some grumblings from the other recruits, coupled with unfriendly glares at the noisy pair. He was heartened by the fact that they took notice of none of this, focusing solely on their training.

After breakfast, Kageyama and Hinata snapped up the Kwoon Room before anyone else could take it, sparring from sunrise to the lunch bell, where they subsequently returned to the mess for a slower—although still enthusiastic—lunch. They split off there; Hinata sometimes sat with his two friends, and other times he went to the construction bay over the Shatterdome to look at the Jaegers and the constant hubbub that surrounded them. Every now and then, he would sit with the other pilots, although these times suspiciously matched up exactly with the times when Tsukishima and Yamaguchi did not take lunch in the mess.

Kageyama, on the other hand, chose to sit alone most of the time. Daichi and Koushi weren’t really surprised that he hadn’t made any friends—he wasn’t exactly the friendly type, and he often gave off the impression that he was pissed off and dangerous. Still, Koushi felt bad, and Daichi, reading him like a book, dragged Kageyama back to their table, where he occasionally tolerated conversation with the two veterans. Humorously enough, he also wanted nothing to do with Tsukishima and Yamaguchi, refusing to sit with the pilots when they were present. Thankfully enough, Tsukishima didn’t see particularly interested in picking a fight in the middle of lunch hour, more concerned with harassing Yamaguchi about his diet and eating habits.

The newbies did not meet after lunch either. Usually, Drift compatibility tests were conducted after lunch hour, and then the varying rotations had lessons for a few hours in the combat room. Kageyama and Hinata probably could have borrowed some staffs or wooden swords or whatever they were using to spar with each other, but as it turned out, Hinata was unable to talk to pretty girls, even if they could knock him flat on his back in the blink of an eye, and Kageyama was too respectful of Shimizu-san to ask her for anything.

They had come to Daichi and Koushi for help in dealing with her, and Daichi had laughed, but Koushi could understand that one. She was intimidatingly beautiful, and impossibly quiet in her movements. She was an effortless fighter, mastering whatever weapon she touched. Two-thirds of the recruits had a crush on her, and Koushi was embarrassed to admit he had been one of them once. However, with time he came to see Shimizu Kiyoko less as a goddess of war and beauty and more as a reliable companion who could be confided in and relied on. More than just a pretty face or a bundle of physical talent, Kiyoko lived up to her title of Master of the Kwoon Room.

Unable to utilize their usual facility, Hinata typically made his way back to the simulator and Kageyama went to the gym, still irked that Hinata’s stamina trumped his own. Some space might have been healthy for them, but the growing intensity of their rivalry prompted the inevitable return to the Kwoon Room once the recruits were gone, where they sparred until they dropped. After the first few nights, Koushi stopped looking in on them, but left a note in their mailbox that reminded them to be back in their rooms by lights out. They had been pretty skittish around him, the next day.

All things considered, though, Hinata and Kageyama appeared to be making progress. Even if their conversations were strung through with barbs at each other, they were managing to hold them at normal volumes (although the screaming matches never really stopped). They could also brush against each other without hissing and exchanging cross expressions. In fact, Daichi could recall one time Hinata was actually able to hook his chin over Kageyama’s shoulder to get a better look at that day’s lunch, even if he was immediately shoved away. There was also a growing energy about them—the type of energy that gave Koushi and Daichi hope that maybe, _just maybe_ , this project wasn’t going to be washed down the drain.

Peace couldn’t last forever. So enthused by the progress the newbies were making, the veteran pilots forgot to take stock of and keep in check the rookie pilot team. Tsukishima seemed to have a nose for trouble and no shortage snippy responses; it wouldn’t be too long until he realized that the energetic duo would make a good target. Yamaguchi’s perceptiveness served Tsukishima well in this way—he easily located and figured out Hinata and Kageyama’s schedule, which made a confrontation all but inevitable.

The day Hinata forgot to close the door, the rookie pilots stumbled upon them.

“Ohh~? What’s this?” Tsukishima grinned, stepping into the Kwoon Room. Kageyama lowered his staff and regarded the intruding pair coldly. Hinata, who had been facing the end of the staff, turned around in confusion, and upon seeing his old nemesis, shrieked and hid behind Kageyama. Kageyama stepped away from him in annoyance, but gave up moving when Hinata clung to him, eyes fixed on Tsukishima.

“Well, well, well. Who knew Suga’s little elementary school kid and the infamous ‘king of the base’ would be meeting in such a place? Sounds like you’re beating the poor kid in. Why not cut him a break?”

Yamaguchi blinked. “Wow, you look even smaller next to the king.”

All of Hinata’s fear bled out of him in an instant. He straightened up and puffed out his chest, moving away from Kageyama to stand on his own. “Oi, watch your mouth, bastard. You looking for a fight?”

 _Give it up, Hinata_ , Kageyama thought. _Your tic is showing._ Cocking his head to the side, he regarded the irritatingly smug blond. “What the hell do you want, and make it fast,” he growled.

Tsukishima raises his hands up in surrender. “Hey now, I didn’t come here to pick a fight with you fledglings. I’m just wondering why the king is bothering with a peasant like shorty. Shouldn’t you just break him in the test pods like everyone else? Get him hospitalized and out of the way so that you can get a real partner, isn’t that what you’re thinking, king?” The look he shoots Kageyama is absolutely villainous.

And Kageyama sees red. His grip tightens on his staff, and he’s honestly seconds away from assaulting an officer, when Hinata rushes Tsukishima. He’s fast—unexpectedly fast, Kageyama _knows_ , he’s been dealing with that speed for _weeks_. Unprepared, Tsukishima can’t dodge the spin of Hinata’s staff as he twirls it in attack, stopping a mere centimeter or so away from Tsukishima’s forehead. Yamaguchi yelps, and Tsukishima goes pale and is forced to take a step back. His composure returns quickly, and he glares at Hinata, who holds his gaze, proud.

“Don’t call him that. And don’t you dare underestimate me again. If you come back here, we won’t hesitate to beat you senseless.” His voice is sharp and strong.

Tsukishima stares him down for a long moment, before clicking his tongue and turning away, walking out the door, a trembling Yamaguchi following. “Don’t get too cocky, shrimp. You’re playing with the big boys now,” he adds over his shoulder with a sarcastic wave.

Yamaguchi looks up at Tsukishima expectantly, once they’re further down the hall. “Tsukki, are you okay?”

Tsukishima growls low in his throat in response, and Yamaguchi shrinks back. Tsukishima catches the motion in the corner of his eye, and deflates with a sigh. “I hate selfish guys who think they can pilot by relying on themselves alone and just using their co-pilot. It’s a team effort—I can’t believe they let that pig-headed king have his own Jaeger. He’s gonna get himself, his partner, and quite possibly the rest of us killed with his inflexibility.” His frown deepens. “And I can’t stand that little brat, either. Expending so much energy for no good reason—he’ll burn out real quick if they stick him in a Jaeger. Even if he thinks enthusiasm and hard work can make up for natural ability and experience, he’ll find out the hard way that he’s wrong.”

Yamaguchi smiles to himself. Tsukishima notices and growls again. “What’re you smirking about?”

Yamaguchi meets his eyes and laughs a little. “To be quite honest…it’s been a while since I’ve seen you so fired up about anything, Tsukki. Even if they’re bad for our team as a whole, I’m glad that they can make you feel something. I was getting worried that you didn’t want to pilot anymore.”

“Idiot,” Tsukishima replies after a while. “Like I would leave you here on your own. You’d be dead in a day if you didn’t have me watching your back.”

This time Yamaguchi really laughs. “You know I’ll follow you anywhere you go, Tsukki. Good luck ditching me here!” His partner rolls his eyes and lengthens his stride so that Yamaguchi has to run a little to catch up.

“Wait up!” Yamaguchi calls, but what he’s really thinking is _besides, it’s **me** who has to watch **your** back._

 

\-------------------

 

Back in the Kwoon Room, Hinata’s shoulders droop, and he lets the staff clatter to the floor. He doesn’t say anything, but Kageyama can tell it took all his courage to confront Tsukishima, and so spectacularly, too.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Kageyama mutters, the most gratitude he can muster. Kageyama’s no idiot—Tsukishima wasn’t out for Hinata, he aimed specifically at Kageyama. Hinata was just a bonus. Hinata had defended him, even though Kageyama neither asked nor expected him to. It’s strange, and Kageyama feels funny in his stomach, but at his words, Hinata is able to stand up straight again.

“You were about a second away from really bashing his head in, I saw it,” he replies, picking up his staff and resting it on his shoulder. “I saved your ass. You totally owe me.” He slips the staff back onto the rack and pauses. “Besides…” he adds in a small voice, “we’re partners now, idiot, even if I don’t like it. Someone’s gotta keep you from doing stupid stuff.”

He picks up his clothing, and Kageyama guesses he’s probably going to run or go kickboxing to blow off some steam, and he stops him with low, “Hey.”

Hinata turns back around. Kageyama sighs and drags a hand down his face. “Let’s retire early, okay?” He suggests.

Hinata glances down the hall towards the free gyms, and then back to Kageyama. “Yeah,” he agrees. “Okay.”

They walk back together in uncomfortable silence, until Kageyama breaks it with, “You win this round.”

Hinata is on him immediately. “Huh? What do you mean I win ‘this round’? I made that jerk Tsukishima turn tail and run! That’s worth, like, five rounds. And I was winning today, anyway!”

Upon thinking about it, Kageyama is disgruntled to find that, yes, Hinata was indeed ahead of him before the interruption. For the argument’s sake, he grumbles, “You must have hit the ground too hard. Your brain is rattled. There’s no way you were ahead of me.”

Hinata’s heated reply echoes down the hall, and the two are back in sync, their unpleasant encounter pushed to the backs of their minds.

The next day, it happens.

Hinata’s hit a two point streak, which in itself is rather rare. Kageyama’s puzzled and not just a little bit annoyed, but when he rushes Hinata, Hinata slides to the side, staff held close, and presses the body of the staff against Kageyama’s abdomen.

“23-20, me,” he says breathless with excitement. His eyes dance with amazement and pride, and Kageyama pulls away.

“Again,” Kageyama says, disbelief evident in his voice. Hinata had hit a run of three once in a blue moon, but something’s different, this round. Hinata strikes first, and Kageyama watches his movements closely—the dance of his feet, the pull of his arms, and the extension of his body that is the staff. Hinata jabs at him and Kageyama parries, only to realize his mistake at Hinata’s fake-out. Hinata knocks him off his feet in a single smooth stroke.

Kageyama doesn’t give him time to speak. He leaps up and _attacks_ , putting the full force of his power into his strikes, and Hinata is forced back. The other is struggling to keep up with the height difference Kageyama is using against him, the strain showing on his face. He launches himself at openings, but Kageyama is _not_ going to let himself be checked again. He sweeps once more at his partner, and Hinata folds himself almost in half backwards to avoid the attack. Before Kageyama can recover, Hinata has his staff shoved in the crook between Kageyama’s neck and shoulder.

They stop, then, and the only sound is their ragged breathing as they come down from the adrenaline high. Kageyama avoids Hinata’s eyes like a true sore loser, but he doesn’t want to see that triumph in his smile, doesn’t want to hear the jeer in his voice as he (justly) asserts that he has leveled the playing field. But it’s not like he’s going to run away and cry about it, so Kageyama looks at Hinata.

Hinata does not look smugly victorious. He does not taunt Kageyama. His eyes are wide and his smile is blinding, god, is he _bouncing_? Kageyama frowns and takes a step back from his unreasonably euphoric partner. “What the hell is wrong with y—”

“Kageyama!” He bursts out, no longer actively trying to hide the bouncing. “Kageyama, we can test Drift now! That’s a five point streak, so we can try to Drift!”

 _It’s like he’s forgotten that_ I’m _the one who made that rule in the first place_ , Kageyama thinks, bemused. _This guy is really one of a kind_. He sighs in defeat. “Yeah, I guess I did make that promise…”

“Come on, come on, let’s find Suga-san!” He grabs Kageyama’s arm and tugs him out of the room, staffs forgotten on the mat. Kageyama growls at Hinata to let go, but, persistent as ever, Hinata refuses and tugs his captive through the halls.

“He’s probably on his way to lunch now, the bell is about to ring!”

“Oi, I get it, so let go before I snap your arm!”

“Uwah, how scary!”

Outside the Kwoon Combat Room, a figure steps in from the shadows of the back exit. Delicately, she lifts up each staff and puts them back where they belong. Brushing back a long strand of hair, Kiyoko examines the indentations left on the mat from the pair’s sparring. They’re deeper than the usual marks left by pilots, but Kiyoko thinks that these boys are a special exception. They’ve been training so hard, and now they’ve finally achieved their goal. Kiyoko permits herself a small smile of congratulations for the pair, before she gets to cleaning the equipment for her next class.

 

\-------------------

 

“Suga-san! Suga-san!”

Koushi is bombarded by calls for him across the hallway on the way to lunch, and he turns to see the newbies running towards him. He goes to wave Daichi on, but his partner shakes his head and sticks with him. The two are out of breath but clearly excited when they reach the veterans.

“Suga…san…I did…it…we can drift…now,” Hinata pants the news out as fast as he can. Koushi blinks surprise. That means Hinata must have been able to beat Kageyama soundly. After only a month and a bit? Impressive.

“Ah, so you want to test Drift,” he says, giving Daichi a knowing look. “Well…I suppose that can be arranged. You’ll want to go right away, I’m sure. Follow us.” With that, the four head away from the mess hall and towards the Shatterdome.

Kageyama had been to the test pods a few times, and Hinata even less than he, so the redhead is jumpy with nerves and energy. The test pods were kept close to the Shatterdome so that curious new recruits wouldn’t end up sneaking in to run a test Drift without supervision and get themselves killed—it had happened before. There were five in the room, sealed pods with room only for the two pilots, and a main control tower in the center, from where the test results were gathered and the pilots in question were observed. The test pods weren’t connected to any machinery, and their doors were translucent in order for the techs to keep an eye on the occupants and stop the Drift if anything got out of hand. All in all, it was the safest environment you could hope for to Drift in, and without the pressure of running a Jaeger, you could just _Drift_.

Not that Hinata knew a thing about that, since he had never drifted with a single person successfully before. Oh no, he was starting to get jittery, and his stomach hurt. Maybe he could stop by the bathroom first…

“Dumbass, get yourself together,” Kageyama hissed in his ear. “Way to project your nervousness.” Hinata jumped.

“I’ve never actually Drifted before,” he admitted, voice weak. “I don’t really know what to do.”

Kageyama scoffs irritably. “Well, we already knew that. I don’t understand how you can be bad at it. Just let your mind drift off, don’t freak out when you feel another presence, and accept them. There’s nothing to it. I’ve done this plenty of times with all kinds of pilots, so I’ll find you and sync us, okay? As long as you don’t go haywire, I’ll be able to form the link easily.”

Hinata stops trembling and his stomach ache begins to die down. If Kageyama will help him, he should be fine. As much as he doesn’t like relying on that guy, Hinata knows that he’s strong and he can probably take his word for it. He peers up at Kageyama suspiciously anyway. “Why’re you being so nice to me all of a sudden? It’s creepy.”

Kageyama cuffs him, but it feels gentler than his usual beatings, maybe even fond. “Dumbass Hinata,” he repeats. “I owe you one, remember? I won’t hold your hand through every Drift, just this once, okay?” Hinata brightens and nods. Just the one, and then he’ll get it. He’s a quick learner, after all.

“We’re here,” Daichi interrupts their whispered conversation. He taps in the code, and the four enter the dimly lit room. It’s slightly chilly, and the entire, circular room rumbles with the soft hum of machinery. The whole room is in shades of steel grey, black for the test pods, and white for the control tower.

“Michimiya! Long time no see!” Daichi calls out. A pretty woman about Daichi’s age pops up from behind the window twenty feet above them on the center tower. She waves at their party, and then leans over a microphone.

“It’s about time you dropped in to say hi.” Her voice sounds over the intercom and echoes around the room. “What’s up, sugar?” she adds, noting Daichi’s partner. “Have you been keeping this troublemaker in line for me?”

Koushi grins and elbows Daichi in the side. “Hey, Yui. This old guy has given me so much trouble, you wouldn’t even believe it.”

Michimiya laughs. “Bet you I would. I knew him in middle and high school, you know.”

“Alright, enough, enough. I’ll never figure out how you two got so close anyway, when Michimiya’s _my_ childhood friend…” Daichi grumbles, and the newbies stand stunned that Daichi let himself be picked on so much. “I’m sorry, but we’re not only here on a pleasure visit. We do have some business to take care of.” He gestures back at Hinata and Kageyama.

“I figured as much,” she nods. “I recognize those two anyway. Carrot-head registered one of the lowest sync scores I’ve seen in a long time, and tall-dark-and-terrifying damn near broke his rotation. You’re playing with fire, Sawamura.” The accused shrink back a little, guilty, but Daichi shrugs.

“Orders are orders. Besides, they’re not so bad now. You should have seen them meet for the first time.”

Michimiya shrugs and smiles. “It’s your call, Ranger. I’m just the tech. Well, I trust your judgment either way.”

She disappears from the window and appears again in a matter of moments in front of the group through a door on the ground floor. Up close, she’s even cuter than in the window, and Hinata makes a strange gurgling sound in response. “This way,” she says, and leads them to a pod numbered Three.

“I assume you boys remember the process, right? Don’t squirm too much. Especially you, short stuff, I can tell you’re a wriggler.” Of course, her attention makes Hinata even more nervous as her assistant techs help fit them with their equipment.

“Hey,” Kageyama murmurs to get Hinata’s attention. “Don’t panic alright? Let me do all the work.” Hinata gives a jerky nod, and then the pads and plating of the test suits are being fitted to them, and neither speak.

The test suits aren’t really all that comfortable, and to Hinata the relay gel smells used, even though the last tech he asked swore up and down that they don’t recycle it. Being smaller than most usually helped him to fit into a lot of things that left bigger guys stuck as a kid, and even with the suits, he’s heard the really muscular recruits say that the suits pinch them and squeeze their shoulders and thighs. In this case, though, Hinata also gets the short end of the stick. He’s still a bit too small for the suit he’s fitted with, and it leaves gaps in awkward places, making him feels like he’s trying on his father’s work suit.

He glances to his right, and then wishes he hadn’t. Kageyama is perfectly calm and collected while putting on the test suit. It seems to fit him perfectly, and he slides into every piece of equipment smoothly, like he’s been piloting his whole life. Hinata hopes that afterwards, when they walk back to their room or the gyms, Kageyama will tell him how unpleasant the suit was for him, too. They’re both put in a reclined position once in the suits, just in case something goes wrong. Hinata’ feeling the bubble of anxiety again, but he controls it. If he can prove that he can Drift, he will become a real pilot for sure.

The techs leave, and the doors of the pod close, sealing them in and dimming the lights to help the two relax. Hinata breathes in and out slowly, calming his mind and trying not to latch onto any of the thoughts that pop up. He tries to lower his pulse rate and remain as still as possible, almost as if he’s trying to fool his body into believing that it’s asleep. He faintly registers Michimiya’s voice, _engaging neural synchronization_ , and then he is truly drifting.

Hinata doesn’t think about the space his mind is in too hard right now. It feels strangely vast and too open to others, but Hinata does not allow his mind to close off. He holds the link open, waiting, feeling for Kageyama’s presence to make itself known. This part, the in-between, he knows quite well. Usually, Hinata is the one eager to search out his partner, and the two smash together like semi-trucks, struggling to revive the connection long enough to actually _sync_ , before it all goes to hell. But waiting here instead of rushing about is oddly soothing. Hinata relaxes, and allows his consciousness to expand, gently feeling around his mental limits for a sign of another.

When Kageyama finds him, it is not painful. The rumors made it sound as if Kageyama scooped you up in his mental talons, shoved you through the connection, and then suffocated your own will and consciousness with his own. But for Hinata, it is nothing like that.

Kageyama’s presence is so unique and just _Kageyama_ , Hinata can’t believe he didn’t recognize it immediately. It’s sharp to the touch, at first, and Hinata pulls away when Kageyama reaches for him. And then, tentatively and trusting in his partner, he feels for him again and doesn’t draw away at the sharp. Hinata nearly gasps. It’s not sharp—Kageyama’s presence is _cold_ , burning so hot that it feels cold to the touch, and Hinata revels at where they connect in the in-between. _So this is what a natural genius’s mind feels like_ , Hinata wonders.

_I can still hear you, idiot._

_WAH?! How?!_ He nearly recoils completely from Kageyama, but the other trails after him, keeping them connected.

_Touch, you dumbass, touch. Our minds and consciousnesses are touching in this space. How do you not know this if you’ve test Drifted before?_

_I never stuck around long enough to find out._

_…_

_So…this is…you. But we aren’t Drifting? How can we communicate if we aren’t one mind?_

_Sigh. I guess I’ll explain it to you. The in-between exchange occurs faster than the blink of an eye, even if you take ages, so we have time. In this space, our minds can meet if they’re open to each other, and we can communicate telepathically because we transmit speech in the form of telepathy in the in-between. The connection is kind of like when two animals of the same species meet. They examine each other, and if they like each other, it’s fine and they’re complacent, but if they don’t they reject each other and fight. Except in this case, you just snap the connection and wake up. That’s what it’s like for people with no aptitude. They either close their minds in the in-between or they reject their partner like you almost did to me when they meet._

_….But it isn’t Drifting?_

_I’m getting there! Drifting is when our minds are completely in sync. We don’t need to think-talk to each other because we know the thought as soon as it exists. Every thought, memory, and emotion is felt as one. You won’t fall out of it by not touching. You fall out of it by closing yourself off and hiding. It’s way more revealing than this. You can’t hear everything that I’m thinking, right?_

_I don’t think so._

_Right, because we aren’t one yet. We can still hide our thoughts. In order to Drift, you need to move your entire consciousness to mine. It’ll probably feel really strange and invasive if you try and do it, and you’ll mess up, so that’s why I’m leading. Remember, don’t hide yourself. You’ll probably feel naked and want to hide, but don’t back out._

_I know that much, **Baka** geyama. I have made the bridge, just never crossed to the other side. Something goes wrong in the middle._

_Brat. Just make sure it doesn’t this time, okay? I’ll try and be as noninvasive as possible, you just tune out my memories the best you can. **Don’t chase the rabbit.**_

_Get on with it already._

Kageyama doesn’t talk to him after that, but Hinata can feel the tendrils of his presence, like icy-hot smoke drifting on and around him. Kageyama’s right, this _does_ feel pretty strange when it’s done slowly, but Hinata tries to ignore him the best he can. Not that it’s really possible, since Kageyama _is_ trying to break into his mind, but if he thinks less about it being Kageyama, and more like it being a helpful presence, it doesn’t feels as gross.

_Relax, Hinata. I’ve almost found you, but you’re shying away._

Hinata hopes the sound of grinding teeth can be passed along telepathically, because that is certainly what he’s doing right now. It feels so wrong to have Kageyama observing every part of his mind, the most sacred place he has, and honestly, he doesn’t want to let him in. Hinata’s starting to understand why a close bond is needed to Drift. Daichi and Koushi have such a wonderful rapport and a spectacular friendship, but he doesn’t even _like_ Kageyama, he just wants to get a chance to pilot, without having to forfeit his secrecy. It didn’t matter with the other recruits because no one cared about each other’s secrets, but this is _Kageyama_ , and Hinata doesn’t want to feel weak or inferior to him _ever_.

_I said I’d make you a pilot, didn’t I? And even if I didn’t, **I’m** going to be a pilot, and since you are my partner, you’re going to be one, too. Let me in._

Hinata’s resistance hiccups, and then crumbles away. He wants to be a Ranger. He wants to pilot a Jaeger _so bad_. And if he has to hand himself over to Kageyama on a silver platter? Well, at least he only has to go through this painful process once. He breathes out and releases the barrier he had unconsciously been forming around the deepest part of his mind. And then Kageyama is there. He feels stripped bare, the spotlight of Kageyama’s keen gaze sweeping over him, and then he feels the core of Kageyama’s mind touch his, and their minds meld together in a burst of memories.

Hinata reacts as he always does when he gets to this part of the Drift—he rushes the memories by as fast as he can in order to keep from clinging to them. It’s his normal procedure when he attempts to Drift, but for some reason, he doesn’t feel quite right about it. He feels a slight spike of confusion that is _definitely not coming from him_ at his choice to blow through the memories, but he doesn’t pay it much mind. He ignores the sounds and images as well as he can, his memories and Kageyama’s overlapping and jumping in no semblance of sequential order. There’s a rising sense of alarm inside of him that he did not call to the surface, and then he can actively feel himself resisting the urge to rush the memories and _holy shit is Kageyama controlling him?_

He balks at that, and Kageyama lets go, but the bridge shakes and flickers in response. As one, they panic and try and hold it together, and it stabilizes, to their mutual and simultaneous relief. Hinata relents from his rush, confused as to why Kageyama stopped him, but before he can do anything else, something catches Hinata’s eye. He stops his hurry to rush the memories and pass over the bridge completely, and he feels a dim sense of someone else’s relief inside his mind. This memory, though…he knows somewhere in his head that he’s chasing the R.A.B.I.T., but he’s too curious to draw back in self-preservation.

Kageyama is crying.

He doesn’t look much younger than current Kageyama, and he’s sobbing, smashing his hand into the side of a wall. It doesn’t leave a dent but he wishes it had. He hates this place, he hates what _they_ did; he’s scared and he’s hurt but there’s no one to help him beca—

And then Hinata feels overwhelming panic like he’s never felt before. The memory is yanked from him abruptly, and he feels the whiplash across his mind as he tumbles and tumbles out of the Drift…

When Hinata comes to, he is surrounded by a swarm of medical officers and Drift techs, and the taste of fear hangs acrid on his tongue. He’s lifted up and supported, though he doesn’t realize how dizzy he is until he tries to take a step. The techs end up sitting him down as they pull off his suit. The medical officers ask him questions, but he’s having trouble focusing on what they’re saying. He answers what little he can comprehend, and then a name pops into his head, unbidden but important. Kageyama.  

He looks to his right, and sees Kageyama in much of the same position as he is. His partner looks far more collected than Hinata, though, and Hinata doesn’t really understand why, because didn’t he…?

“Why…why did you pull…pull awa—” he wheezes out, but Kageyama cuts him off by loudly replying to a question by one of the Drift techs.

“Hinata started to chase the R.A.B.I.T., so I pulled us out in order to stop him getting in too deep and doing some serious damage to both of us,” he says. Calm. Cold.

But Hinata knows—and he’s not sure how—but he knows that Kageyama is scared beyond words. Clammy palms, sweat on the back of his neck, he’s lightheaded with fear but somehow still holding it all together. And then Hinata’s memory snaps into place along with his focus.

“What…What the hell, Kageyama?! You know that’s not what happened! Why are you lying about that?” Hinata narrows his eyes. “Why are you making it seem like I’m the one at fault?”

Kageyama fixes him with an icy stare that feels nothing like the cold-hot touch of his mind. “Because that was what happened. You chased the rabbit, even though I warned you, and I pulled us out of there.”

Hinata shakes his head vigorously. “No, that’s not—I mean, yeah, I did go after that memory—but that’s not why you pulled us out. You didn’t care about our safety—you just didn’t want me to see your memory. What the hell is wrong with you? Weren’t you the one who said not to hide yourself? You lying hypocrite!” He snarled at Kageyama, betrayal sinking deep in his chest. “You made me a promise.”

“Shut up,” Kageyama hisses. “I did no such thing; you must still be confused from the Drift. Lie down or something.”

“You liar!” Hinata explodes, struggling to stand up, completely intent on throttling some sense into Kageyama, stop him from talking in that cold tone, stop him from looking down on Hinata. The medical officers plead with him to sit back down, but Hinata shakes them off. Before he can take a step towards Kageyama, Koushi and Daichi are between them.

“Whoa, whoa, calm down, you’ve just fallen out of alignment, you need to rest right now,” Koushi begs, concern in his voice. “Whatever happened we can figure out later.” Daichi dismisses the techs with a sharp nod.

Hinata doesn’t look at either of the pilots, just sneers at Kageyama and shakes his head. “Permission to be dismissed, sir.”

Daichi furrows his eyebrows at Hinata. “You should at least let the medical officers finish their assessment, Hinata.”

Hinata shakes his head again, more firmly, still not looking at Daichi. “I feel fine,” he says in a voice as steeled as Kageyama’s. “Now that I know for sure I’ll never be able to trust this guy, I can sleep soundly. I’ll never have to wonder ‘what if it worked out’. He’s given me his answer.”

Daichi doesn’t like it, but he nods lightly at Hinata. “Permission granted,” he says in a small voice, “but you _will_ be stopping by the hospital on your way out.”

Hinata stalks out of the room in a rush, not looking back even once. Koushi gives Daichi a _look_ , and then follows the redhead out.

Daichi lets out a long sigh, dismisses the medical officers, and then settles in next to Kageyama. Once everyone has left, and Michimiya and her techs are high in the control tower, he speaks. “This is a pretty big mess you’ve made,” he murmurs. Kageyama’s shoulders slump and he refuses to look at Daichi.

“We saw the readings, but numbers and graphs can only tell us so much. Why’d you drop the Drift?”

Kageyama presses the palms of his hands against his eyes tightly and takes a moment to reply. “He went after _that_ memory. It’d be okay if he just brushed past it, and I can shield the details like I always have, once we’re in the Drift, but…he _chased_ it, and I _trusted_ him not to. He almost saw everything.”

Daichi nods in understanding. “I imagine you feel pretty betrayed about that. But you know, this thing goes both ways. If you can see him, he can see you. I’m sure he feels even more betrayed right now, that you couldn’t trust him with it.”

Kageyama laughs, a loud bark of agony. “Oh trust me; no one knows that better than me. When he was yelling at me…well, anyway, that doesn’t matter. But I can feel this deep, bitter cross of betrayal and sorrow that isn’t mine, and _I don’t know why_.”

Daichi blinks in interest.

That night, Kageyama sleeps alone in their quarters, Hinata nowhere in sight. Daichi told him that Suga-san had found Hinata and that he was alright, but he didn’t return the entire night, and Kageyama sat awake, staring at the ceiling.

Hinata had snuck his way into Izumi’s dorm, nearly giving his friend a heart attack, but pleading with him to let him stay. Izumi agreed, mostly asleep and entirely confused, but he gave Hinata half the blanket anyway, and let his friend’s restless sleeping and constant quivering keep him up into the early hours.

And Hinata slept, although it was fitful, tormented by memories of the past month, now tainted with the betrayal of today. But most confusing to him was the soul-deep fear and coinciding relief, countered by a bitter anger at the relief. He hadn’t the slightest idea where it was coming from, but the emotions mixing with his own kept the nightmares close that night.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one of the underlying themes of this fic is 'everything was going so well until it went spectacularly wrong'
> 
> also i headcanon suga and yui as bffs who have sleepovers and fangirl over daichi so there's that
> 
> chapter title from [**"Arch to Achilles"**](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=57k_phnaUAw) by Falling Up (yes everything is falling up or jonsi i will not apologize)
> 
>  
> 
> ~~was everyone surprised by/pleased with kiyoko and yui or~~


	3. you grow; you roar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (OKAY THIS ONE IS ACTUALLY BETA'D bc i saw the amount of grammatical/spelling mistakes in the last two chaps and ouch. thanks for tolerating my lack of editing^^')
> 
> before i say anything else, i would just like to thank [**twinkmastertoudou**](http://twinkmastertoudou.tumblr.com/) and [**aretama**](http://aretama.tumblr.com/) for their ABSOLUTELY INCREDIBLE fanart for my fic!! i'd like to dedicate this chapter to them because i almost literally cried when i saw how amazing their drawings were.
> 
> [ **daisugas in their jaeger!!**](http://jensuisdraws.tumblr.com/post/95030662479/) // [**pacific rim crossover for daisuga week!!**](http://electricprince.tumblr.com/post/95703548402/)
> 
> one final note: if any of you would like to draw/make fanmixes/whatever for my fic, you absolutely may. all i'd like is credit and a link so i can fangirl :)
> 
> bother me to hurry up writing or just cry over haikyuu on **[tumblr](http://thewaterdoesntlikehim.tumblr.com/)** and **[twitter](https://twitter.com/sleepytadashi)**!!

“Honestly, I think it’s a bad idea.”

“I’m with sugar on this one, Sawamura. You think it’ll get better, but you could just push them farther from each other.”

“It’s a risk, I know, but all of us saw the brain scans, too. For that one microsecond…”

“Yeah, a microsecond. Are you listening to yourself talk? You’re going to force them back together because of a microsecond.”

“Daichi, please reconsider.”

The three stood around the center table of the test pod control room with a scattering of graphs and printouts spread across the table. Michimiya’s arms were crossed and she was shaking her head, while Daichi gestured at one of the graphs and Koushi covered his mouth, face pinched in thought. Daichi looks between the two of them and then steps back, hands up in an attempt to mollify his companions.

“Okay, okay, let me start from the top. If nothing else, at least we know why Hinata had so much trouble Drifting with another person. Well, in theory anyway. We always thought his erratic brain waves were just his unique reaction to the Drift and fine for him, but since at _that_ moment, they slowed and synchronized with Kageyama’s, we know he’s doing something wrong. Don’t you think if we present this information to him, he’d want to give it another shot?”

“That level of unity between them still gives me the creeps,” Michimiya grumbles. “It’s way stronger than it should be, nothing natural about that much synchronization, especially between two people who hated each other up until a day ago.”

“What Daichi is really missing, though,” Koushi jumps in, “is the other side of that moment.” He brings up another graph. “Hinata started going after the memory, which is dangerous enough, but Kageyama jumped them out of the Drift way too fast to be due to fear for their safety. You remember what happened when I chased the R.A.B.I.T., right Daichi? How it felt?”

Daichi nods, troubled. “Since our minds were one, I started to go after it, too. Luckily I pulled us out in time, but it took a while to figure out. Kageyama’s reaction is way too fast, even for a prodigy.”

“He must have recognized the memory. It was one of his,” Koushi murmured.

Daichi nods. “That’s right. It has to be pretty bad to cause him to rip them out of the Drift immediately, though.”

Michimiya sighs and presses a hand to her forehead. “And to think he lied right to Hinata’s face about it too…”

Daichi shifts. “Well…I probably shouldn’t say this, but I did talk to Kageyama about the memory. It’s definitely his, and…Suga, I think it was the one I read about in his file. If that’s the one, I worry he’ll never let anyone back in his head.”

“And yet you want them to test Drift again?” Michimiya can deal with not knowing classified information like she has since she started working at the base, but she _cannot_ tolerate recklessness, especially from someone like Daichi, and _especially_ with something as dangerous as Drifting. “I thought you knew better than to make thoughtless decisions.”

“The point I’m trying to make is that if Hinata can keep his brain waves from going haywire with whatever he’s doing, he can probably control himself from chasing the rabbit and help Kageyama get through the memory,” Daichi explains. His companions regard the idea thoughtfully.

“That’s not an impossible outcome, although Hinata is still inexperienced at this,” Michimiya offers. “But if Drifting really does come naturally to him like all other pilots, he should be okay.”

“One more thing we have to consider,” Koushi adds. “Just why was Hinata rushing so much instead of holding steady like everyone else?”

“Maybe he just never had anything worth looking at before,” Daichi murmurs, and Koushi and Michimiya fix him with intense stares. He shrugs, and they exchange glances.

“Okay,” Michimiya relents. “We’ll let them give it another chance. But Sawamura, if things go bad, things go bad.”

“Got it,” he agreed.

 

\--------------------------------------

 

Daichi and Koushi approach them with idea a few days later.

They’re back to sharing a room, although Hinata sleeps on the couch, and raises his metaphorical hackles whenever Kageyama is in the same room as him. What’s even more depressing to the pair is that Kageyama doesn’t even fight; he just sulks and stays out of Hinata’s way, like he knows what he’s done wrong but refuses to try and fix it. When they bring up the test Drift, for a second Daichi is sure Hinata will slam the door in their faces, and Kageyama visibly winces.

But Koushi jumps in and explains, talks about the scans, about how Hinata can actually do it, and that he believes they can come to an understanding if they truly see each other. Hinata still looks dubious, but his curiosity about his Drifting ability overrides his current hatred of Kageyama. Koushi knows it’s not fair—baiting him with a challenge—and Kageyama’s dark look confirms his suspicions, but he wants to try. Kageyama agrees to a redo before Hinata can, and, furious, Hinata consents.

The walk back to the test Drift is an awkward and painful one. Hinata and Kageyama are both unapproachable messes, and Koushi feels it would be rude of him to talk to Daichi like nothing’s wrong. There’s relief all around when they arrive, only to have the tension heightened when they step in the room. Michimiya wisely chooses a pod on the other side of the room, and the two newbies allow themselves to be tugged into place without complaint. They do not look at each other.

When Hinata relaxes once more and finds himself in the in-between, he nearly severs the connection then and there. But now that he’s felt this place, attached to Kageyama, he knows what he feels like. And he can sense Kageyama out there, lingering, not wanting to draw closer. _Asshole_ , Hinata seethes. _Throwing me under the bus just to make yourself look better, then flinch away when we connect? Coward_. He marches up to Kageyama, who doesn’t move in the slightest. Hinata sighs in irritation and prods at Kageyama’s consciousness. He doesn’t really want to connect with him, but he finally rests his presence against Kageyama’s.

 _What do you think you’re doing?_ Hinata hisses. _We’ve got a job to do, and if you won’t, then I will._

 _Don’t._ Kageyama’s voice sounds kind of far away to Hinata. _Don’t touch my memories and the Drift will work._

_Some trust you have. Can’t say I’m surprised at this point, though._

_…_

_Whatever, just do it. I won’t chase the rabbit._

He’s quicker this time in finding Hinata, and Hinata doesn’t bother with putting up much of a fight. He wants this done and over with. They are two and then…they are one. The kaleidoscope of memories isn’t identical to the previous one, but it’s still far-reaching and intense, the overlay of two lives at once. Hinata keeps his word. He does not look too hard at Kageyama, though he can feel the other watching him. He doesn’t rush the flood, but he doesn’t try and stop it.

He feels fine for a while, but then he feels Kageyama stir. A certain memory catches his attention in the lazy way that lets him know it is not his own interest, but another’s—an experience that can only be felt by those in the Drift. Kageyama is looking. Hinata bothers to pay attention, and is surprised to see himself as a high-schooler, and Natsu…Natsu is with him and he laughs and spins her around. He feels the touch of interest probe a little deeper at the memory, not him, but _Kageyama_ , and he rears up in disbelief. The Drift collapses immediately, and this time he doesn’t tumble, but falls straight out of the sky, and wakes with a gasp, Kageyama gasping with him.

 _This_ time, Hinata doesn’t wait for the entourage. He rips the helmet from his head, practically foaming at the mouth. “ _How dare you_ ,” he hisses, fury rising under his skin. “How dare you peek into _my_ memories when you refuse to let me even glance at yours. _What gives you the right?_ ”

Kageyama, at least, looks appropriately ashamed. “I was trying to help,” he mutters. “I thought…maybe if it was a happy memory…you would ease into it. That was the one I felt first, so…”

Hinata shakes his head, but the anger has dissipated and he just feels hollow. “You know, Kageyama, at first I agreed with you. I thought I would hold us back in the Drift. I thought you would leave me behind because I was a burden, and so I worked hard to become an equal in your eyes. But really…” He narrows his eyes.

“ _You’re_ the one holding _me_ back, aren’t you?”

Kageyama snaps his head to look at Hinata so fast, Hinata believes for a moment that it will fly right off. “Is that so,” he snarls. “May I remind you _who_ got us into this situation in the first place? If you had just let that memory slip away like all the others instead of sticking your nose into other people’s business, everything would have been fine!” He stands up, and Hinata matches him.

“You aren’t ‘other people’, you bastard,” Hinata stalks over to him. “You’re supposed to be my partner! You’re supposed to trust me!”

Kageyama gets in his space, forcibly shoving him back. “I’m supposed to trust you? _I_ need to trust _you_? Are you stupid? What do you think I was doing, letting you get anywhere near that memory, even letting you into my head?! I trusted you to Drift like a proper pilot, not chase after a part of me that just happened to catch your attention!”

Hinata pushes back. “You’re so full of shit, I can’t even believe it. I felt your fear! You threw me out of the Drift, and it wasn’t to save me, it was _to protect you_. For some reason you don’t want anyone near that part of you, and you’ll never trust anyone enough to let them see it.”

They separate before anyone even interferes, turning their backs on each other. The techs are quick with their removal, and the two part ways swiftly, without acknowledging the other pilots or Michimiya. None of them have the heart to tell them they held perfect sync for a good few seconds there.

There is one more Drift attempt, and Hinata and Kageyama don’t even make it past the in-between.

 

\----------------------------------

 

Michimiya might be at her wits’ end, but Daichi is not. He pulls a discouraged Koushi to the side a week after the final Drift attempt and gives him a concerned once-over.

“Hey,” he says softly. “You’re not looking too well. Are you feeling okay?” Daichi knows, he already knows how exhausted Koushi is, mentally and physically, just by touching him, but his partner puts on a brave face as always.

“I’m holding myself together pretty well for now. It’s just…things were going so well, and now I don’t know what to do. What _can_ we do?” Daichi rubs his shoulder comfortingly.

“Well…I have an idea, but it’s kind of a long shot, and my instincts may very well be wrong in this case.” Koushi looks up.

“At this point, I’m up for anything.”

Daichi gives him a half-smile. “That’s good, because you happen to be a key player in my plan.”

Koushi points at himself innocently.

 

\-----------------------------------

 

Three hours later, and Koushi is knocking at their door again, feeling nervous but also excited.

Kageyama answers this time. He’s got dark circles to match Koushi’s, and it hits him all at once that it must be hell for them to live together. His resolve hardens. Kageyama eyes him warily and with dismay. Koushi holds his hands up, a peace offering. “No Drifting,” he says, and Kageyama’s shoulders slump in relief.

Kageyama lets him inside somewhat reluctantly, and Koushi is glad to see that they haven’t trashed their quarters or broken anything. It feels cold and abandoned inside the room, but that’s probably just the emotional state of its occupants. When he peeks around the corner to the bedroom, Kageyama stops him with a hand. “Hinata’s sleeping,” he says in a low voice, and Koushi understands that it must not be a common occurrence.

“It’s fine if I just talk to you then,” Koushi says, and they sit at the table so as not to disturb the redhead.

“Are you finally dropping us?” Kageyama asks with tired resignation as they sit down, like he’s been expecting this conversation. Koushi shakes his head and tries to give Kageyama a comforting smile.

“Not at all. Quite the opposite, in fact. It’d be better if Hinata was here, but I can at least explain the basics to you,” he says, and Kageyama regards him with as much interest as an exhausted and depressed man can.

Koushi leans forward. “Kageyama, do you know about the Ghost Drift?”

“…Suga-san?”

Both of them turn to face the source of the sleep-heavy voice. Hinata rubs at his eyes with the sleeve of his oversized night shirt. “When did you get here?” He asks, trudging forward and pulling a third chair over to the table. He sits next to Kageyama reluctantly, but Koushi can tell that the fire from their fight has died down to bitter, hollow embers.

“I just got here,” Koushi replies. “And I’m glad that you can be here for the explanation. You’ve had it rough lately, and I know that’s a wound you don’t want to open. I have no intention of bringing anything like that to the table.” He gets two looks of tired relief.

“What I want to talk to you two about is the Ghost Drift. I’m sure you’ve heard rumors.”

Kageyama is completely still. “It’s nothing good, from the rumors.”

Hinata hums in thought. “Well…I’ve heard that it makes you relive the death of your co-pilot over and over if they’re killed in a kaiju attack. But I’ve also heard that it’s kind of a leftover emotional connection that you feel with someone after you’ve Drifted with them for a while. Kind of like you know where they are or how they’re feeling. Isn’t it all just some made up sci-fi legend?”

Koushi shakes his head, and then he knows he has the attention of both newbies. “Hinata is right on both accounts. But there’s a lot more to it than that. For example,” he tilts his head slightly and feels for Daichi along the bond, smiling when he gets feedback. “Daichi is pacing in the biology labs again, and he’s wondering how this meeting is going. He’s worried that you two will react badly to the Ghost Drift or that he’s wrong that you’ve felt it before.”

Hinata’s eyes light up. “Do you really have a psychic connection with Daichi-san, Suga-san?”

Kageyama is more perceptive. “What do you mean we’ve felt it before?”

Koushi smiles. “Let me start at the beginning. You’re right about one thing; the Ghost Drift is a byproduct of actual Drifting. It starts as just an emotional residue from a particularly strong connection, but the more you Drift, the tighter and more prominent the bond becomes. With four years of Drifting…well, Daichi and I would probably absorb each other’s characteristics, or have good intuition about where to find each other, maybe even feel exact emotions.”

Hinata cocks his head to the side. “But you just told us exactly where Daichi-san is and what he’s doing and feeling.”

“Right,” Koushi nods. “If we did nothing, we would have had the aforementioned traits no matter what. It’s a pretty weak version, but it’s still the Ghost Drift. However, Daichi and I have strengthened our bond through the Ghost Drift. It needs practice, like a muscle. At first you’ll only be able to feel simple things, like emotions and intentions, thoughts that stand out. But with practice, even things like telepathy outside of the Drift and seeing through each other’s eyes isn’t impossible. Well, so I’ve heard. Daichi and I aren’t anywhere near _that_ kind of connection.”

Hinata makes an ‘ohhhh’ sound in awe, but Kageyama crosses his arms. “As much as this is an interesting lecture, I have a feeling you came here for more than just that. And you didn’t answer my question, either.”

Koushi nods. “Well, from what Daichi has told me, Kageyama, you felt strange emotions after…that…that you didn’t feel were your own. In the same way, Hinata, you told me that you had conflicting feelings without a source that were giving you a migraine when you came to me for pain pills.”

It clicks in Kageyama’s head. “You think we have a connection like you and Daichi-san,” he murmurs.

“Fairly certain,” Koushi agrees. “Which is strange, considering how little you’ve Drifted. It may have something to do with your time in the Kwoon Room—there’s something about that place that really brings people together.”

“We’re not—” Hinata starts, and Koushi holds up a hand.

“I know, I know. There’s bad blood between you right now. But if you’ll allow me to make one more suggestion.” The two nod after a moment, and Koushi continues. “I urge you to probe at the bond, strengthen it if you can. There’s a lot both of you have left unsaid, and if you want to heal, you’re going to have to understand each other, and I can tell you from experience that a psychic connection makes this infinitely easier. If you don’t want to do that, I understand. But at least try playing with the connection. It might come in handy during your stay here, you never know.

“I won’t lie to you; it can be a wild ride communicating on two different channels. If you ever need help with anything, you know where Daichi and I will be.” He stands up and gives them both a hopeful smile. “There’s no real ‘right’ way to go about understanding the Ghost Drift—it may be a universal phenomenon, but it’s different for each pair. Just remember that it is still Drifting, in a way.”

With that mysterious statement hanging in the air, he dips his head and bids the two farewell, like he didn’t just drop a huge bomb on them.

Hinata is quiet for all of two minutes before he says, “What if Suga-san’s right?”

Kageyama jumps a foot in the air—Hinata had spoken to him as minimally as possible since that catastrophic day. “What do you mean, ‘what if he’s right?’”

“I mean,” Hinata huffs and faces Kageyama. “I mean that it could be useful. I don’t like you, and I never will, but we have to live together, and we’ll probably have to pilot together again, so we might as well have some sort of understanding so we don’t go blowing up at each other all the time.”

It’s a mature response, and Kageyama is somewhat taken aback. Hinata’s fixed him with a disgruntled scowl, but he’s also resigned, and he doesn’t look like he wants to fight. They could continue this feud for the rest of their lives, but they’re stuck together for entirety of the conceivable future, so they might as well give it up and try to make the most of their crappy living situation.

Kageyama sticks out his hand tentatively. “Then let’s do this the right way. I’m Kageyama Tobio, 21 years old. My goal is to become a Ranger and pilot a Jaeger of my own. I find you unpleasant and self-righteous, but I’m willing to cooperate with you.” He mutters the last part and doesn’t meet Hinata’s eyes, but Hinata takes his hand anyway.

“I’m Hinata Shouyou, 22 years old. I’m going to be the greatest Jaeger pilot in history, protect my family, and bring them happiness again. You’re a trustless, two-faced liar, but you’re not a bad pilot, so I can live with you I guess.” They shake on it, and the atmosphere of the room lightens just a bit.

“Right,” Hinata says. “Let’s figure this thing out.”

They toss around a few ideas for figuring how to even tell if they have a bond, since Koushi left them with an explanation of the phenomenon that was the Ghost Drift, but no instructions on how to utilize it. Both wrack their minds for a method, but in the end, they’re both sleep-deprived and not the most book-smart of pilots, and they go for the easiest option. They try to feel out their bond first and foremost by staring each other dead in the eyes until they are dizzy, attempting to communicate an emotion, on the floor of their quarters.

“Is it…exhaustion?” Hinata offers, after thirty long minutes of bad guesses and no results.

“Dumbass,” Kageyama sighs, irritated. “You could tell I’m exhausted just from looking at my face.” It’s not working at all, and Kageyama is beginning to doubt the veterans. No one develops a bond like the Ghost Drift with three pathetic drift attempts that total maybe seven seconds total synchronization.

“It’s not much of a royal look,” Hinata mutters to himself, but Kageyama’s eyes widen, and Hinata knows he heard it.

A few things happen at once. First of all, Hinata scrabbles to get away, realizing his mistake too late. At the same time, Kageyama snaps a hand out, grabbing Hinata by the ankle before he can escape, causing the trapped party to let out a yelp like a wounded animal, and flail in panic. And finally, like a whip out of thin air, the two pilots-in-training are smacked in the face by polar emotions. Kageyama is hit by fully-fledged panic, stunning him into letting Hinata free. And Hinata, rather than taking off, is knocked over by a tidal wave of raw fury tinged with pain, loneliness, and a trace of abandonment.

The two stare at each other for a long moment as the foreign emotions fade. Hinata swallows, looking at Kageyama in a strangely new light. _A title like that…isn’t something cool at all, then…_ “What does the title ‘king of the base’ mean to you?” He asks shakily, and Kageyama immediately breaks eye contact.

“You weren’t supposed to feel that,” he snaps. “You weren’t supposed to _know_ any of that.”

Hinata moves closer to Kageyama, despite his lingering fear. “Why do they call you that?” He asks again, this time reaching out to touch Kageyama’s ankle out of instinct. Before Kageyama can pull away, his hand connects, and then Hinata is hit with another wave of emotions. It still feels like being rammed by a truck, but he struggles to push through the wave to find what he’s looking for. Bravado and superiority…yes he knew that, but underneath…worry that he wasn’t good enough, fear that he would become like _that_ man, uncalled for loneliness at being an outcast, and just the fleeting taste of humiliation at having his feelings revealed.

Hinata wrenches his hand away only a moment later, but he’s already seen everything. Kageyama is glaring at him, curled away defensively, and Hinata remembers this is a two way street. “Don’t you _dare_ feel _pity_ for me,” he spits. “I don’t need your curiosity or your compassion; I can handle everything on my own just fine.”

Hinata looks at his hand in wonder, then to Kageyama, drawing away from him like he was some kind of demon. “No you can’t,” he murmurs. “You can’t do this on your own. I _know_.”

Kageyama snarls wordlessly at him and lunges, before hesitating to touch him. Hinata just looks, because this was not what he was expecting. That cold-hearted, selfish king…he was really just a hard working guy who happened to be a prodigy with a sour personality. He was sure that selfishness and apathy for others would be there if he probed for it, but now Hinata knows that this guy is human. He feels the dregs of hatred drain from him.

“I know,” Hinata says again, because this trapped animal act was Kageyama’s last line of defense. The last thing he had left to combat someone who could reach into his mind and tell what he was feeling. “Why do you do this to yourself?” He asks sadly, and reaches out once more.

Kageyama shakes his head and leans away, but Hinata pleads with him in his mind, trust me. And maybe Kageyama couldn’t hear him, but he hesitates just long enough for Hinata to touch his cheek, and he closes his eyes, focusing on giving rather than taking. There’s Kageyama’s confusion and weak fear, and then Hinata shows him.

Hinata shows Kageyama his arrival at the base in a blur of emotions: excitement, anxiety, and the barbs of humiliation and sadness that pricked at him with every ‘shorty’ or ‘weak link’ name that he was called. But he lets that fade into euphoria at his acceptance, anticipation for the tests, pride, and then…despair. Kageyama winces at that part, the sync scores, they both know it. The exterior of livelihood and happiness, but the aching, deeper part of Hinata that said he was meant for more, but the fear that he couldn’t make it from the bottom. A tangle of fear and hope in meeting Suga-san, disbelief and the miraculous emotion of joy that he had never felt until someone said he could be a pilot. Awe at the Shatterdome and their Jaeger, and then…Kageyama.

Interest at first, he was impressed if a bit intimidated, then the fear and…anger. And then that was the rest of it. Variations of irritation, frustration, and anger, mingled with grudging admiration and envy. The feeling of finally beating him…not one of smug victory, but of self-fulfillment. Hinata pulls away after that, because there are some things neither of them want to relive.

Kageyama touches his cheek where Hinata’s hand was, and he blinks at him. “You thought I was cool?” He asks, disbelief heavy in his voice.

Hinata flushes bright scarlet and scowls at him. _Urgh_ , he thinks, _I got too excited. He wasn’t supposed to see that._ “I showed you all that, and the only thing you got from it was that I thought you were cool?!”

Kageyama shrugs one shoulder, looking a little embarrassed himself. “No one’s ever said something like that to me before.” Hinata finds he believes him instantly.

“…Why’d you show me all that?” Kageyama asks quietly. It’s Hinata’s turn to shrug.

“You act like some kind of gift from god, but I felt your true self. You’re really quite human, but it’s like you’re afraid to be. So I just wanted to show you that you’re not weird or anything. I’m a human too.”

Kageyama regards him thoughtfully for a moment, and then stands up. “Well, at least we know it’s triggered through touch. Ours is probably not strong enough to communicate just through our mind and presence…but it’s still pretty strong.” He looks intensely annoyed, Hinata thinks, but his curiosity overrides his wariness of Kageyama.

“Again!” Hinata demands. “Let’s do it again!”

Kageyama fixes him with a dark look. “Moron, didn’t you learn your lesson from what just happened? We have no idea how to put the brakes on this thing. Screwing with the Ghost Drift before we learn to control it is a terrible idea.”

Hinata growls in indignation. “ _You’re_ the moron. How are we supposed to learn how to control it if we don’t practice? Besides, I totally had control over it that last time. I didn’t get bowled over by your emotions, _and_ I was able to share the feelings in my memories!”

Kageyama’s expression, if possible, gets even darker. Letting Hinata get ahead of him in skill…like hell he’d let that happen. “You’re gonna get us both killed or decommissioned as pilots,” he says as a compromise.

The smirk on Hinata’s face tells Kageyama that he can read between the lines. He jumps to his feet, and they share a look of mutual anticipation. Kageyama may be nervous about revealing too much, but regardless of his talent, he’s still a newbie, and the idea of playing with a legendary psychic connection is just as exciting to him as it is to Hinata. They bicker over the location to test out their bond—table and floor too uncomfortable; bedroom too intimate—and settle on the couch Hinata had been calling a bed for the past few weeks.

It begins like that—two young pilots, brimming with an excitement reborn after a painful and forced coexistence. They bring nothing of their past quarrels into the bond; only their hopes for the future and the feelings of the now. The power of youth and innocence—Daichi had known this would happen, of course, which is why he suggested the Ghost Drift in the first place. After all, he had once been a rookie, meeting up with his future partner in the Kwoon Room, feeling their bodies and souls clash and meld together in the inescapable bond that was co-piloting. And, he remembers the first time they Drifted outside a Jaeger, Suga’s excitement rebounding off his own, the sparks that flew with the first collision of their emotions, and the warmth of Suga’s constant presence, both then and now. He had never truly fought tooth and nail with Suga, but he couldn’t imagine a fight that would erase the incredible feeling of completely stepping into someone else’s mind without the metal and wires separating them.

Kageyama and Hinata might hate each other, but they were compatible, and there was no reason two rivals would not be drawn in by their contrasting psyches.

It’s Kageyama’s idea to touch very little at first, thinking that a slight and slow physical connection might also slow their emotions. It doesn’t work at all, the first time, when they brush fingertips. Kageyama feels like he might be on fire from just that lightest touch, Hinata’s desire to _make this work_ is so strong. And Hinata hits a wall that feels to him like hesitation and anxiety, but the only thing he can think of is _what is the view on the other side like?_

After a few more trials and a sharp rise in Hinata’s impatience, Kageyama figures it out. “Hey,” he stops Hinata before the other can reach out to him again. Hinata has moved gradually forward and Kageyama further back, but when he leans back in towards Hinata, the other pulls back warily. “I think I’ve got it.” Hinata cocks him head, and Kageyama continues. “This wave I feel every time, isn’t that just you being too excitable? Aren’t you just forcing your way into my mind, like you always do in the Drift?”

Hinata’s eyes widen and he straightens up. “I…”

Kageyama lets out a long sigh and shakes his head. “Dumbass Hinata, you always have way too much energy…let me lead this time too, okay?”

He meets Hinata’s eyes and is momentarily surprised to find hostile suspicion in them. _Oh…that’s right_ , he remembers. _That’s what happened last time too, huh_. He struggles to find the words to ask Hinata to trust him again, but they die in his throat. They were in this situation in the first place because of trust, after all. Kageyama berates himself for his words, feeling the good atmosphere slowly dry up into the ominous tension that had lain over their quarters since that time.

But Kageyama has forgotten that this is _Hinata_ , and he never reacts according to plan. The suspicion dies into acceptance, and just like that, Hinata holds up his hand again. To Kageyama, it has the feeling of submission and surrender, and yet he still finds himself thinking _I do not deserve this_. The thought is a foreign one to him, and he’s frightened that it even crossed his mind, but he does not give himself or Hinata the chance to reconsider. He presses his full palm to Hinata’s, and allows his confusion and mess of emotion to flow to his partner.

Hinata keeps his end of the deal, resisting the urge to feel everything all at once, to prod at the wall of hesitation. His mind watches and feels as Kageyama seals their connection, and the wall flutters down like cloth, so smoothly and cleanly that Hinata can only observe in awe. He can see the other side.

Kageyama’s emotions are far more restrained than his own, still curled at the edge of their bond, not really wanting to make the jump. Hinata feels touches of his focus and his determination, his desire to succeed and all other sorts of feelings that Hinata instinctively pulls on, wanting more of a taste. He doesn’t like Kageyama, right, but their bond…he wants to know him, to understand the breadth and the power of their connection. A few stray emotions leap around Hinata’s mind—irritation, disbelief, frustration—all emotions that he can trace back to Kageyama’s thoughts of _him_. And then the curling wisps of confusion and fear and _is that amazement_ reach Hinata’s mind. He feels Kageyama’s dilemma, his uncertainty about how to handle Hinata, guilt and relief and then, for a fleeting moment, they are connected.

 _I don’t know how to control myself around you_ , Kageyama’s emotions say. _With everyone else I can get by, but you’re something else entirely. I want to ignore you or get rid of you, but you’re always two steps ahead when I least expect it and I’m **frustrated**._

Hinata reaches out a little as the link begins to fade, twining his fingers with Kageyama’s and physically pulling on him, _let me see, let me see_. Kageyama relents, and then Hinata runs the edge of his mind against Kageyama’s emotions, feeling his true self. He doesn’t pry, just feels whatever emotion rises to the surface of Kageyama’s mind. Annoyance fades into grudging acceptance and even mild amusement at Hinata’s eagerness. There’s still a little bafflement at Hinata’s trust, and he replies with his own desire to succeed at any cost, and then Kageyama shakes their connection in embarrassment at being caught.

 _This guy might just be okay_ , Hinata thinks as the last of their bond drops away.

Of course, then Kageyama (no longer distracted) realizes they’re _holding hands_ , of all things, and yanks his hand back, knocking Hinata off the couch in the same movement. Another yelling match ensues, and they’re revived from the Drifting failure.

 

\---------------------------------------------

 

After forgiving each other more or less, however, living together becomes difficult.

Koushi wasn’t wrong—being able to communicate just through touch, and so accurately too, was useful, but it also became a problem when the two went about their daily business. Having moved back into his bed, Hinata found that all the accidental bumps or touches between them became amplified exponentially, especially in the morning when they were both too groggy to function properly. Stumbling into each other resulted in mutual surprise and then distaste, doubled across the bond. Simply touching arms while brushing their teeth led to Hinata facing Kageyama’s intense focus on that day’s activities, and Kageyama being dragged down by Hinata’s desire to just eat something already.

Even more of a problem was picking out breakfast. They didn’t eat in the mess hall, choosing instead to cook in their tiny kitchenette. Hinata insisted on protein (in the form of eggs with rice and miso) and milk every day, while Kageyama preferred fish and rice. Although he and Kageyama sometimes alternated cooking some for both of them, Kageyama had a bit of a sweet tooth. He took dry, American cereal almost as often as he cooked. That was fine for Hinata, who didn’t really care, but it quickly became a problem when Kageyama brushed him while reaching into a cabinet and Hinata felt an urge for that awful cardboard crap that Kageyama called a meal. In the same way, Kageyama glared holes into Hinata’s eggs that morning, and they both could only pick at their food.

The Ghost Drift did have its good points, though. They were still tentative about working out together, but the morning runs never really stopped. All it took was Hinata resting a hand at Kageyama’s elbow for Kageyama to know what route Hinata wanted to take and how far he could probably run that day. Kageyama, too, sometimes wanted a change from their usual pace, and would nudge Hinata’s shoulder to tell him. It was a bit frustrating to Hinata that he couldn’t call Kageyama to him when he wanted to spar, but they had both agreed to master touch-communication before they attempted anything like Daichi and Koushi had.

Kageyama had expected the Ghost Drift might result in them cutting off all vocal communication, since emotions and the thoughts they connected to were so much easier to understand, but in actuality, they ended up talking a lot, punctuating complex thoughts or conversations with brief connections to ensure understanding. (“And the first time Kouji and I snuck out of our dorms for more food and we saw our rotation leader was like _wahh!_ terrifying and all, you know? Here, let me—” “Yeah, I got it.”)

Kageyama also found himself hanging out more and more with the other pilots. He was loath to ask questions about the Ghost Drift, especially in front of Tsukishima and Yamaguchi, who had jeered at him for relying on something so unnatural to communicate with the one he was supposed to trust with his life. They didn’t use it at all, Kageyama found, and when he asked them how they were supposed to understand each other completely in the most crucial moments, Tsukishima just raised an eyebrow and they left without a word.

Koushi, at least, was happy to help. He explained how the rookies had built up a wall between them (“You can do that?” “Don’t get any ideas; you can barely function with the aid of the Ghost Drift as it is. Your communication skills suck.” “….”), and relied only on intuition and years of partnership to fully understand each other. He also seems pleased with the progress they were making and Daichi was relieved that they could actually speak to one another again, even if they weren’t as inclined to be together as before the Drifting incident.

Hinata spent more time with Izumi and Kouji, who had been worried sick about them. He tried to explain the best he could about what went down—almost reaching out to touch Izumi in explanation—but what he really boiled it down to was a big fight with his partner. Hinata found that despite its direct connection, he was really glad that he couldn’t Ghost Drift with either of his childhood friends. There was something to be said about building proper relationship skills, and having to explain oneself in words. Kageyama was impossible to talk to, but Hinata cherished the conversations he had with his friends.

The dichotomy between Kageyama’s relationship with Hinata and his relationship with everyone else affected him more than Hinata had thought it would. At first, whenever he would poke at their bond, he would have to wait momentarily before Kageyama identified him and lowered his guard. But one evening, after a long day of training with Daichi (who had finally taken them under his wing), Hinata called for first shower, touching Kageyama’s shoulder to relay his aching and exhaustion, and received a nod and a weak hum of acceptance along their bond. It wasn’t until he was soaking in the tub that Hinata realized Kageyama hadn’t warded against him at all—just let him straight into his mind.

He suspected it could have been the weariness acting on his partner, but the next morning, when he tested their bond again “by accident”, Kageyama responded with a growl.

“I can feel your tension and suspicion from a mile away, before you even touch me.”

Hinata jumped. He was probably, _probably_ exaggerating, but Hinata was just looking after him, damn it. “What? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Kageyama sighs and turns to him. “You’ve been poking at the connection all morning, and it hurts, damn you. I’m getting a headache. Also, I got your message the first seven times. Yes, I am aware that I’m not blocking you out anymore. It’s too much trouble to keep up when I’m bouncing between you and everyone else. I feel paranoid and it gets on my nerves.”

Hinata hesitates. “So…you trust me?”

Kageyama glares at him for a moment, and then cuffs him across the head. He doesn’t say anything to Hinata’s question or following yelp of pain. But the momentary touch lets Hinata know that he is resigned to his fate and he also feels like he should return some of the faith Hinata has put in him. The knowledge puts a smile on Hinata’s face for the rest of the day.

Their psychic interactions remain short and to the point for a while after they first use their bond, but inevitably, longer interactions occur. The first time it happens is when they’re with Daichi. Hinata had been distracted the whole day, making him a useless partner for Kageyama to train with. It was like hitting a sack of flour, and while Daichi frowned in concern, Kageyama became increasingly furious, especially since Hinata refused to go anywhere near enough to be touched. He exploded, finally, after a particularly crappy round of sparring, and Kageyama threw himself at a distant Hinata, sending both of them tumbling onto the mat, his hands fixed along the sides of Hinata’s face.

Hinata responded with a gasp as Kageyama forced all his frustration, disappointment, anger, and lingering worry across the bond. Hinata remained stock still for a long moment before he furrowed his brow and lashed out at Kageyama, but it wasn’t the same.

Kageyama felt Hinata’s emotions, of course—returning anger at being assaulted, bone-deep worry, sympathy, and a strong sense of warm compassion and care that Kageyama had sensed distantly, but never felt up close and personal like this. But instead of just the feelings, Kageyama was bombarded by scattered noises and images that jumped recklessly across the bond. _A memory,_ Kageyama identified it distantly, incredulous that Hinata was managing to project this. He saw snippets of Hinata's two friends—one comforted by the other, a conversation with the Jaeger technician in charge of training new techs, and the blurred image of a small town Kageyama had never seen, with three familiar children racing to the corner store...  
  
Hinata's hometown.  
  
The voices become clear then, in a way, and to him, it's kind of like listening to someone's echo, but there're also words and images that appear and disappear in a heartbeat that help to translate the words. Hinata is trying to communicate with him, and surprisingly, it is working. It's not like the in-between, where they use telepathy to speak, or even Drifting, where the existence of a thought is known by both as it arises, but a jumbled mess of thought and memory, with Hinata serving as the translator.  
  
Izumi's mother collapsed earlier that week and he had only heard about it today. The three had gone to beg off time for him to go check in on his mother, and with Hinata's new status, Izumi had been able to leave. Even so, Kouji and Hinata knew that Izumi's mother was very frail and had always been prone to sickness, so they worried and prayed that she would be alright. Hinata had been worried sick over the state of one of his closest friends and his mother, who had hosted them at Izumi's house many times. To Hinata and Kouji, Izumi and his family were just a part of their extended family. Hinata's explanation ended with a sharp dig of bitterness, a tired _are you happy now?_ sent out to Kageyama to berate him for pressing Hinata.  
  
Kageyama pulled away from Hinata hesitantly, aware that they had been connected for far longer than usual. To his surprise, the connection did not sever and slowly fade as usual, but followed him, like he was pulling away from a sticky web that still sought to entangle him. Hinata fixed him with a miserable look, his unhappiness still pinging at the edge of Kageyama's mind until the bond _finally_ disengaged, and they were left staring intently at each other.  
  
Daichi, who kind of understood what had just happened, and was also aware of the attention they were attracting, ushered the two out while staring down all the people gawking at the scene with a vicious glare.  
  
In any case, Kageyama felt like a complete and total ass for invading the privacy of that memory, leaving him with a bad taste in his mouth and the recollection of locking Hinata from his own sensitive memories. They returned to their rooms quietly and without incident, Daichi walking them only as far as a few passages down until the ripple of gossip faded. When they finally opened the door, Hinata flopped onto his bed wordlessly and grabbed his phone from the night table, worrying his lip. He was obviously checking to see if there had been any update from either Izumi or Kouji, but Kageyama felt he had to say something.  
  
"...Hinata," he murmured, hands fisted in the bottom of his shirt, standing tense in the doorway to their room. Hinata glanced up at him reluctantly and Kageyama braced himself.  
  
"About that...I didn't..." He struggles with the words once again and _why is it so difficult now, when during training he can speak so freely to his partner?_ He sighs in frustration and tries again.  
  
"If I had known, I would have never..." Apologizing had never been Kageyama's strong suit, and Hinata understood well enough that he was trying.  
  
"It's fine," Hinata mutters in reply, but his tone of voice says it's really, really not. Kageyama clenches his teeth; god, why was he such a moron? They had come so far, only for him to isolate Hinata once again. He releases his shirt, and steps to the side of Hinata's bed. Hinata watches him with a dull look in his eyes, like he can't even be bothered to be angry at Kageyama.  
  
He's slow when he reaches out his hands to Hinata's face this time. Hinata's eyes dart between them warily, but he allows Kageyama to lean over him, only flinching slightly at his touch. They're both pulling back, the bond hardly even flickering at the contact, and Kageyama is brushing his hands just slightly against Hinata. When he does not move to run, only fixing Kageyama with a mildly confused expression, Kageyama sinks to his knees and takes Hinata's head in his hands, pressing as gently as possible. Hinata balks a little at the familiarity, but then Kageyama opens their connection, and he unconsciously relaxes against the (unfortunately) comfortable presence.  
  
Kageyama cannot make his words work, but maybe he can make _this_ a substitute.  
  
He begins with that morning. Hinata's brows furrow; this is the same memory he has, just from a different point of view, and Kageyama knows it must be disorienting, but he pulls Hinata closer to him, insistent. Hinata excusing himself from their run was strange enough in itself, but the obvious lie and anxiety on his face set off alarms in Kageyama's head. At first he feels mild irritation, then the brief cut of a hurt _why won't he tell me what's wrong?_ He tried to shake it off during the run, but despite his best efforts to ignore it—and a slight hesitation in showing Hinata—he feels the anxiety for Hinata grow into worry, accentuated by the lack of another warm body at his side. He doesn't so much miss Hinata's noise and energy, but it certainly throws him off and puts him in a bad mood, causing him to cut his run short.  
  
Kageyama fast forwards thought their day, worry building at Hinata's lack of responsiveness, even to the most offensive of jabs. Kageyama's worry translates over as yelling and anger—he’s just so bad at showing concern—and he is harsher and harsher to Hinata, while his mind is working, analyzing, trying to understand what went wrong. And then that moment in training. He snaps because _that was so easy to block Hinata what the hell are you doing what happened while I was not by your side_ and he _knows_ what this must sound like, he can feel the disbelief and incredulity rising from Hinata's mind, but for one microsecond, he thinks clear as a bell: _I wish I had Suga-san's talent I need to know where he is and if he's okay at all times._  
  
Of course, then Hinata shows him such a pretty, dear memory of his life before he became a recruit and the emotional bonds that he has with the beloved people of that memory, and regret hits Kageyama sharply. He's sorry—truly sorry—that he invaded such an important part of Hinata's mind, after all that had happened with Drifting...  
  
_I would have **never** touched you if I had known,_ he tries to convey to Hinata. _Something like that, you should never be forced to show anyone, not even your co-pilot. I wish you had just told me something..._  
  
And then Kageyama snaps from his trance, hackles rising in nervousness at just how much he had shown Hinata, with nothing in response. He tugs away from the bond, but Hinata is there, pulling him back, mind tracing the memory as if it were his own. The bond doesn't sever, and Kageyama knows his face is probably red, but he sincerely _wants_ forgiveness from his calamity of co-pilot—wants their relationship to mend and become stronger.  
  
He vaguely registers Hinata smiling, small but steady, and he pulls Kageyama closer to him, resting their foreheads together. This time, it's not so much a memory, but thoughts that Hinata communicates, wordless and imageless, but present and understandable nonetheless.  
  
_The way you share memories is so flowy,_ he says—well, kind of. _I feel like I'm watching someone pour water into a glass, or seeing a flag ripple in the wind. All your thoughts and feelings are like that. Mine are so scattered, I don't understand how you make it effortless. Of course, then you go and hide from me, and the illusion is shattered pretty quick._  
  
Kageyama is _definitely_ blushing now, but he doesn't move away.  Hinata pauses, but continues his thought-speak. _It's so different from how you normally are. If we didn't have this, we would never be able to coexist, I think. ...I'm sorry for making you worry. I'm going to rely on you as my partner from now on, so try to let me in more often, okay?_  
  
Kageyama huffs aloud, breaking the thought-connection. "Dumbass, we've always been partners. And I didn't worry all that much. Just look after yourself, jeez. There are two of us, right?"  
  
Hinata's smile widens, happiness thrumming across their bond. "Watch out or I'll overtake you, prodigy."  
  
Kageyama allows a smirk in return, releasing Hinata's face and leaning back. "Kwoon Room tomorrow, then?"  
  
"If you're that eager to lose," Hinata quips back, hopping off his bed with new energy, digging around for his night clothes. Kageyama can still feel the edge of uncertainty and worry that plagues him as the link fades, and bumps his shoulder.  
  
"It'll take your mind off of the situation, too, since a simple-minded idiot can only think about so many things at once. Besides, you'll hurt yourself and not do them any good moping and worrying." Hinata 'accidentally' trips Kageyama as he leaves the room, and he only manages to steady himself due to the slight premonition of Hinata's mischievous thoughts.  
  
They fall asleep easily that night.  
  
  
\-------------  
  
  
Kageyama wakes up the next morning hungry.  
  
It's odd—he’s not often all that hungry in the morning, preferring to have a light breakfast and a heavier lunch, but his stomach growls impatiently, and he is driven from the warmth of his bed at its cries.  
  
He pokes his head into the cabinets and the fridge, figuring some fish and maybe even an omelet would do him good, but neither of those choices sound particularly appetizing, and he sighs in impatience. The mess hall _is_ open this early, but it's quite the walk, and he has no desire to venture out before he's fully awake, especially with the possibility of Tsukishima or Yamaguchi out on the prowl. And yet, another growl silences his complaints, and he pulls on shoes with a grimace.  
  
It's as quiet as ever in the base. A few days ago, Daichi and Suga had been dispatched to eliminate a Category Two kaiju; not a difficult task, but one that left Apocalypto Alpha inevitably a little banged up, and apparently one of the conn-pod cables that connected to her plasma cannon had been damaged. Both Jaeger technicians and the mechanics had been working long shifts trying to get her back up to par. As a result, no one was really interested in an early morning wake-up, even with the temptation of a warm and prepared meal a few levels down.  
  
The mess hall was damn near empty when Kageyama entered, and he didn't recognize any of the stragglers. He trudged over to the kitchen window, surveying his choices. It wasn't a bad spread by any means—but Kageyama couldn't manage to show interest in any of the meals. He hailed a chef in the back, chewing on his lip.  
  
"Do you have any pork buns left over from yesterday?" He asked. Yeah, that would really do him some good. Sure, it may not be a typical breakfast food, but Kageyama was definitely in the mood for a pork bun. The chef looked at him strangely.  
  
"You know we don't usually serve those for breakfast, right?"  
  
Kageyama gave the chef a look that made him flinch—unintentionally so—and grumbled. "Yeah, and I never come here for breakfast; this is a special occasion. I'll take two."  
  
The chef sighed and walked back to get the requested food items. Kageyama bowed slightly in thanks and turned on his heel, warm pork buns tucked securely against his chest. It was a bit of a lucky break—the kitchen didn't always make them—and Kageyama hummed in satisfaction.  
  
It wasn't until he was turning down the hallway to his and Hinata's room that he realized his mistake. He loved pork curry buns almost as much as Hinata did, but lately Hinata had been favoring some kind of crappy barbecue flavored pork instead of the curry ones, insisting that they were just as good. Well, Kageyama suspected he was mainly interested in them because they were of a foreign flavor, but Kageyama had taken a bite anyway and concluded that they were absolute garbage, strange new flavor or not.  
  
So why was he smelling barbecue from the bag?  
  
Kageyama jerks to a halt. Yes, that was definitely barbecue. He thinks back to his order, and yes, again, he _had_ ordered the barbecue ones, even though there had been pork curry ones as well. But why would he...  
  
The answer hits him alongside another hunger pang, and he realizes that he's actually thinking of these stupid barbecue things as _appealing._ To be honest, he's craving them, which makes no sense because he still _hates_ the taste of them, and he stands there like an idiot for a few minutes, with conflicting feelings on _meat buns_ of all things.  
  
He doesn't know why he thinks of Suga-san all of a sudden, but he does, and then he remembers _the Ghost Drift strengthens over time_ and _Hinata has been bitching about these pork buns for days_.  
  
"Oh, _hell_ no," Kageyama hisses, changing from confused to possessed with the wrath of a demon in the blink of an eye. Gripping the bag with a strength born of incredulous fury, he tears down the hall to their shared room, a snarl of "HINATAAA!!" booming along their hallway, causing several irritated neighbors to open their doors and watch the scene unfold.  
  
Kageyama rips open the door and screams Hinata's name into the room, his partner appearing before him only moments later, a blurry-eyed mix of alarm and drowsiness. "Kageyama, what—" he starts, but Kageyama shoves him inside, slamming the door behind them and reeling on Hinata.  
  
He grabs the front of Hinata's night shirt and pushes him up against the door. Hinata, feeling the full brunt of Kageyama's rage at his touch, shrinks away in fear and stutters out a meek defense. "H-hey now, whatever I d-did to make you this angry, I can fix it— _oh god please don't hurt me_."  
  
"Hi-na-ta," Kageyama growls, pronouncing each syllable of his name separately in a way that leaves Hinata in a cold sweat. "Do you know what I have in this bag?"  
  
Hinata, noticing the bag for the first time, swallows nervously and eyes it. "U-um. No?"  
  
"Well, why don't you take a wild guess?" Kageyama offers, a terrifying smile in place. Hinata is pretty sure he's going to die—like, _really_ sure—so he obeys Kageyama and takes a tentative sniff. He blinks in surprise.  
  
"That's—that's the barbecue pork bun I've been craving all week," he says, surprised, fear momentarily forgotten. "But I thought you didn't like those..."  
  
" _I don't_ ," Kageyama hisses, glaring holes through Hinata. His expression makes Hinata feel like he's missing something really obvious. He wracks his brain for a response that will keep him from instantaneous death, eyes darting. Why would Kageyama have picked up the stupid things if he wasn't going to eat them? Surely they weren't for Hinata—they had already made up last night. But it seemed the only explanation, since he had been whining throughout the past week about them, to the point that Kageyama had smacked him to get him to shut up. Jeez, he'd even _dreamed_ about the things, he was so hungry...  
  
The realization hits him in the same way it did Kageyama—stunned silence. He had dreamed about them last night, but that didn't mean Kageyama...he meets his partner's eyes in awe. _That didn't mean Kageyama had felt his dreams and **responded** to them, right?_  
  
Hinata's dumbfounded expression transforms into pure excitement. "Kageyama!" He yelps. "Kageyama, we did it, we used the Ghost Drift without touching! You channeled my thoughts, I can't believe it!" Kageyama lets the wriggling creature go and steps away in irritation.  
  
"You made me get up at god knows what time in the morning to go harass the kitchen for your _stupid fucking meat buns_ ," he growls. Hinata snatches the bag from his hands and peers inside.  
  
"Ah! You even got two! Wow, I can't even believe this. Kageyama, you're the best!" Hinata stuffs one of them in his mouth, making pleased noises.  
  
Kageyama, who until just a moment ago had been prepared to strangle Hinata, makes a strange choking noise in his throat, and takes a hesitant step back. _You're the best?_  
  
Hinata, unsurprisingly, misinterprets the sound and looks up. "My bad," he says, removing the pork bun from his mouth. "Did you want the other one or something? I mean, if we're psychically connected, maybe you'll start liking them."  
  
Kageyama can only stare dumbly at him before turning on his heel and walking towards their bedroom. "Get changed, Dumbass Hinata," he calls over his shoulder. "If I stay around you any longer, I'll catch idiot," he mutters more quietly.  
  
By the time they're both ready to head over to the Kwoon Room—Hinata in high spirits and Kageyama resigned to a crappy breakfast and an even crappier day—the rest of the base is awake and bustling. The pair usually miss the morning rush due to their run, so the livelihood of the hallways is a nice change. Hinata looks around like a child at Disneyworld, and Kageyama has to rescue him several times from various carts and transport vehicles that he's too dumb to notice. They also have a brief run in with Yamaguchi, in which he and Hinata stare at each other in surprise and block traffic, unsure of what to do. Kageyama steps in and grabs him by the scruff of his neck, urging him on, a brief "sorry" muttered over his shoulder, while Yamaguchi awkwardly bows.  
  
By the time they get in the elevator, Kageyama has rekindled his anger towards Hinata, and is putting on a facial expression that makes the others in the elevator give him a wide berth. It's packed, of course. _Of course._ Hinata, safely tucked in front of him, peers around Kageyama's body, and Kageyama fixes him in place with a yank to his jacket.  
  
"For god's sake, sit still," Kageyama grumbles, anchoring his pesky co-pilot to within an arm's reach. Hinata sticks his tongue out at him, and Kageyama is only mildly surprised to feel the flicker of emotional exchange across their link. So it wasn't a fluke, after all.  
  
"Don't you know those guys?" Hinata asks, gesturing with a nod behind Kageyama. "I've seen you stare at them before." Kageyama follows the nod and sets eyes upon Kindaichi, the shallot-head guy, and Kunimi, the weasel-face. They meet his gaze coolly, and Kageyama feels his body go stiff.  
  
Distaste flutters across their bond, and Hinata looks up at Kageyama, who still hasn't broken eye contact. No one else in the elevator pays them any mind, either wrapped up in their own conversations or still trying to wake up. Hinata unconsciously grips Kageyama's jacket, looking back at the two recruits with caution. "You don't like them...?" He wonders aloud, trying to imagine what they did to elicit such an intense response.  
  
"We had...a difference of opinion," Kageyama explains, narrowing his eyes. It's not really an explanation, though, Hinata thinks.  
  
"Yo, king," Kunimi calls to the newbies, and Hinata jumps. Kageyama flinches, just slightly. "I see you're still here, for one reason or another."  
  
The thought flares across their bond at the same time: _Tsukishima._ Kageyama and Hinata exchange surprised glances, and the tension eases a little. Kageyama turns back to Kunimi, meeting his eyes calmly.  
  
"I don't know where else I would be," he replies in almost a bored tone. Hinata cheers silently. Kunimi clicks his tongue and makes a face, but his companion, Kindaichi, looks at Hinata curiously.  
  
"Who's your victim?" He asks, with calm to match Kageyama's. "Pretty small guy. Don't think I saw any of his type in our rotation, and surely they wouldn't have made the king Drift with anyone who wasn't the cream of the crop. What's his story?"  
  
Hinata opens his mouth to answer, incited, but Kageyama beats him to it. "I don't see how that's any business of yours." He looks pointedly at the logo on their shirts that marked them as recruits, but not pilots.  
  
Kindaichi's ears go red, but he keeps his cool. "I must say I'm a little surprised. Surely you've gone out and fought some kaiju, right? I mean, it's been months since you left. And yet...I haven't heard a thing about a new Jaeger in the field. With an elite like the king, surely Drifting in any Jaeger can be mastered. You two _have_ Drifted, am I wrong?"  
  
Kageyama's jaw snaps shut at that and Hinata narrows his eyes. That guy...he was really good at hitting their sore spot. Drifting was still a wound in the process of healing, and they hadn't really talked about it since that fight. Way to go getting them where they were weakest. Worse yet, their silence answered for them, and Kunimi and Kindaichi raised their eyebrows.  
  
Hinata doesn't wait for them to say something. He steps out in front of Kageyama, shielding him. He ignores the hiss of “oi, idiot, what are you doing”, and crosses his arms.  
  
"Somehow, I get the feeling you two are related to that nickname, 'king of the base'," he says thoughtfully. "A selfish ruler who'll do anything he can to further his own ideals, huh. I can't say I really disagree with you, but don't you think you're pretty pathetic yourself?"  
  
Kindaichi and Kunimi bristle at that. "Watch yourself, shrimp," Kunimi growls, and Hinata wavers for a moment before standing his ground.  
  
"Kageyama might have been doing whatever he pleased, but he was also trying his hardest to get where he wanted to go. Can you really say that you put that much effort into training? Did you really do all you could to work with him? Or did you just put a crown on Kageyama's head and decide he was a lost cause?" Hinata puts a hand on his heart. "I Drifted with him, so I understand. Your entire rotation just couldn't be bothered to put up with the vigor of someone so talented, so you made excuses."  
  
Kindaichi barks out a laugh. "Are you serious? If you've Drifted with him then you understand how unbearable it is to have him in your head. Objectively, he looks great on paper, but that guy can't communicate with people at all. How could you pilot a Jaeger with him?"  
  
He shakes his head, but when he meets Hinata's eyes again, something in them makes him freeze. "You're really so sure about that?" Hinata asks, voice intimidatingly low. "You're really sure that Kageyama will never cut it as a pilot?"  
  
"Of course we are," Kunimi growls defensively. "You're the idiot here."  
  
The elevator comes to a stop, and people begin to file out. Hinata stares at them for another long moment before shrugging one shoulder. "I think you'd be surprised at what we can do together. Because we _will_ be piloting our Jaeger, one way or another." He turns on his heel then, trotting out with his head held high, Kageyama following in a bit of a daze.  
  
Kageyama thinks Kindaichi might have shouted a retort as they left, but he's too distracted by Hinata's feat of courage to pay attention. The doors shut behind them, and once the elevator begins to move again, Hinata collapses to his knees. "Agh, those guys are pretty scary at first. And really tall, too."  
  
_Well, it **is** Hinata._ Kageyama rolls his eyes and kicks him. "Stand up, you moron, where the hell did that confidence go, huh? And why did you get off on the wrong floor, now we have to walk it!"  
  
"Eh? But it was such a cool exit, I just had to. Also I kind of feel like I'm gonna puke..."  
  
"Dumbass! Dumbass Hinata!"  
  
\------  
  
  
Kageyama yanks the doors to the Kwoon Combat Room open with one strong heave and Hinata darts past him into the dim light of the room. Kageyama hears Hinata laugh inside, and he sticks his head around the doors in surprise.  
  
Hinata is shoeless and jacketless, spinning around in a circle in the center of the mat, a carefree smile on his face and eyes bright as a candle flame. He meets Kageyama's puzzled look with another laugh, and throws his arms out. "This is where we first got to know each other, don't you remember? There are so many good memories in this place..." He runs up to Kageyama and tugs on his sleeve, pulling him further into the room.  
  
"I remember," Kageyama mutters. "You were way too eager for a fight and you couldn't feint for shit."  
  
Hinata rolls his eyes. "Right, but I also made you take me seriously that day, don't deny it."  
  
Kageyama _can't,_ and that's kind of annoying. He shoves Hinata to the ground instead, but unfortunately, he doesn't seem to lose any of his spirit, just flops down comfortably. "Yep, and you also knocked me on the ground a bunch, too. Kind of mean, if you think about it. But that's okay, because I beat you here as well!"  
  
Kageyama snorts and kicks at Hinata, who dodges expertly and brings Kageyama tumbling down while he's off balance. Caught by surprise, Kageyama can only brace himself for impact, but Hinata is already scrambling up, preparing for his next assault. He tries to curl up defensively, and Hinata thwarts him by clambering onto him and sitting on his stomach. Kageyama grunts and attempts to dislodge the bundle of energy.  
  
"Get the hell off me, you imbecile, you're crushing me!" He growls and squirms, to no avail. Hinata shakes his head furiously in the negative and proceeds to make himself comfortable.  
  
Kageyama arches his back, throwing Hinata off balance in an impressive show of strength, and Hinata topples off with a yelp. Victorious, Kageyama rolls over and presses his body along Hinata's, pinning him to the mat.  
  
"Who's crushing who now?" Hinata whines, shoving at Kageyama and squirming wildly. He actually gets a few good hits in, and Kageyama reconsiders his ability to squash Hinata to death. He jumps up, pinning Hinata's arms above his head and his legs between Kageyama's.  
  
"Not fair," Hinata grumbles, when he finds that he can't fight against Kageyama's superior size and strength. Kageyama raises an eyebrow.  
  
"Say it," he says, and that is most definitely _not_ humor in his voice. No way.  
  
"Really?" Hinata asks in disbelief. He gives one last shove before his muscles relax and he mumbles "mercy" into his shoulder. Kageyama lets him go after a moment, flopping onto his back next to Hinata.  
  
"That's payback," he says.  
  
Hinata props himself up on one elbow and glares at Kageyama in disbelief. " _For what?_ "  
  
Kageyama raises an eyebrow at him. "I told you before; you don't have to do that. I can take care of myself."  
  
Hinata pauses for a second and then replies, "The elevator? You're mad at me because I defended us in the elevator?"  
  
Kageyama doesn't respond, and Hinata sighs in frustration, lying back down. "That and Tsukishima, huh. You really are impossible. Would it kill you to depend on someone else a little?"  
  
"I appreciate the thought," Kageyama says quietly. "But in a situation like that, I can handle my own problems myself."  
  
Despite everything, Hinata finds himself smiling again. "Jeez, I kind of understand why no one ever likes Drifting with you. A connection built on trust...and you don't have the slightest bit." Kageyama tenses at the accusation, but Hinata nudges him with his shoulder and Kageyama feels his playfulness. "You're a real moron, seriously. But that's okay. I'm your partner now, so I'll make you rely on me, same as I'll make Daichi-san and Suga-san rely on us."  
  
Kageyama huffs and meets Hinata's eyes. He's fighting a smile now, and Hinata thinks he doesn't look even a bit scary like this. "I look forward to seeing you try," he replies mildly, the soft smile finally making its way across his face.  
  
Perhaps it's the memories they have in this place, or the good feelings that come from giving your all against a worthy opponent, but Hinata feels calm and contentment settle deep in his bones, and he sinks into the mat, watching Kageyama do the same. It's a moment of pure, unadulterated peace and silence.  
  
Maybe that's why he's able to feel the Ghost Drift all of a sudden, as broad and suffocating as a heavy fog, but in the best possible way. He feels Kageyama without touch, their very presences interacting softly and familiarly. It's almost like the in-between, Hinata thinks, the creeping way Kageyama reaches for him and he responds. And yet...it is entirely different.  
  
Kageyama burned him cold in the Drift, as alien a mind as a kaiju, but looking at him like this, feeling the slow puffs of air from his exhales and smelling the scent of sweat ingrained into the mat, Hinata feels anchored to this world. He is not drifting in the sense of losing touch with his surroundings; he is Drifting in the sense of aligning his mind with his partner, the other half he never knew he needed.  
  
And it is warm. This presence is warm and soft because Kageyama's emotions are those of slow-moving happiness and satisfaction, draping themselves across Hinata's mind like a thick blanket. But he doesn't mind. Hinata allows his bubbly thoughts of comfort and wriggling cheer to bounce their way across the bond, and Kageyama snorts inelegantly, giving him the mental equivalent of a shoulder nudge. They do not touch at all—but Hinata feels like he has never been closer. _Could the real Drift really unite them further than this cloud of mutual understanding?_  
  
"We should probably try again," Kageyama says quietly, trying not to break the perfect synchronization they're holding. "Kindaichi did have a point, though I'm loath to admit it. We need to put out results."  
  
Hinata closes his eyes. Kageyama's nervousness undulates across their link, and Hinata soothes him. "I think we'll be okay this time. We should be able to push our way through the hard parts now." Kageyama hums in thought.  
  
They are silent a while longer, and then a thought bubbles to the surface of Kageyama's mind. "Oi...when we first met," he begins, and Hinata opens one eye. "I said I felt like I knew you, and you agreed. I don't really know why I thought of this, but you remind me of someone I knew when I was younger. High school, I think." He touches Hinata's wrist, and the faded, blurring memory appears.  
  
Hinata blinks. "No way...don't tell me you played volleyball?" He's shaking his head in disbelief, but that's definitely a volleyball court. "It's really nice, too. Where'd you go to school?"  
  
"Shiratorizawa," Kageyama replied. "Didn't make the entrance exams, but a...mentor of mine had some connections with their big ace on the team, and he got me in, one way or another." Kageyama shrugs. "I was good for a while, but after a time, it just got old. There was no real challenge as a setter. Sure, Ushijima-san could spike like nobody's business, but he could hit _everything_ , so it wasn't exactly difficult or exciting to toss to him. I eventually got replaced in my third year by some upstart, and ended up focusing on prepping to become a Ranger."  
  
"Haaa? You were in Miyagi, too? And at such an elite school!" Hinata exclaims. "I guess I shouldn't expect any less. I went to Karasuno, played there for all three years. We never got to the quarter finals of any competition though, so I'm not surprised we didn't meet each other. I've always had great athleticism, but never the skill. I mean, I improved, but too slow to really go anywhere with it. Coach said that with the right setter, maybe...but then with the kaiju and everything, playing a sport seemed so pointless..." He sighed.  
  
"I must have recognized you from a competition or something. Small world, huh?" Hinata shrugged.  
  
"Hmm? Ah...maybe," Kageyama murmurs. "But what I really meant was that you reminded me of some spitfire shorty we played a practice match against back when I wasn't a regular in the first half of the season. That guy never gave up; his tenacity and speed were crazy. I can't really remember his face all that well, but he shone in that match, even if he wasn't the ace."  
  
Hinata frowns. "Come to think of it, I think we played against Shiratorizawa once, but it was just a bunch of their extras, so it didn't immediately come to mind. And there was this one really unbearable guy that just took control of the court and gave it such an intense feeling, I broke out into a cold sweat. It was like playing at Nationals! I think he was number..."  
  
"...10."  
  
"...9."  
  
Hinata and Kageyama exchange glances wildly. "You—" Kageyama sputters. "You're that annoying little shit who stressed me out and messed up my rhythm!"  
  
Hinata sat up. "Of course! Who else could have had such an unbearable intensity in a practice game? It had to be you!"  
  
They stare at each other incredulously, surprise and annoyed respect flickering across the connection. Again, Hinata found himself looking at Kageyama in a new light. "Ah, man," Hinata sighs, finally, collapsing back down. "I can't believe someone with a crazy toss like you lost to a first-year at the top of your game. I'll have you know, I always wanted to hit one of those—the ones that the senpai yelled at you for tossing."  
  
Kageyama, too, can't help but feel just a little more respect for Hinata's determination and passion in everything that he does and loves. "I _still_ can't believe the speed of your quicks. Even for a normal quick, you responded so fast. And to think your decoy even fooled our number two team..."  
  
"Sounds like we would have made a good pair," Hinata suggests with a smile. Kageyama raises an eyebrow. "Although really, with such pure talent, you really should have pursued volleyball. What changed? It couldn't have just been the spikers."  
  
Kageyama settles back down, silent in thought. He takes a breath. "To be honest, I probably just followed in my mentor's footsteps. He was a really charismatic guy, even though he's kind of the guy you'd be inclined to hate. Couldn't tell if I wanted to hit him or trail him like a puppy. But he always knew what he wanted, and went to any lengths to get it. Not a single shadow of a doubt in his mind that he was on the right track at all times.  
  
"I asked him when he came to visit, in my third year, if he had gone pro. He laughed in my face and said that a unique skill set like his was better served elsewhere. He told me about the Jaeger pilot recruitment, and I couldn't help it: I was intrigued. He took me under his wing again and it turned out that I was really talented in that, too. It's probably selfish of me to say this, but I was jealous of my mentor and I wanted to be better than him at _something_. He was so good with people, just brought them together, incredible Drift compatibility...but I thought if I could be better than him in a Jaeger, maybe I could prove that someone who didn't work with people could be great, too. And now..." Kageyama shrugs. "Now I don't know. If I'm good at it, I guess I should save humanity, but my mentor isn't really my motivation anymore."  
  
Hinata nods thoughtfully. "Makes sense in a way. I kind of want to prove myself too. I saw Small Giant, back in her heyday, and that kind of jumpstarted my desire. To think that something so small could become so powerful...I want that. That ability can protect Natsu and Mom and Dad, and Kouji and Izumin and their families. I really don't want them to suffer."  
  
He laughs, and Kageyama feels shame shudder through their connection. "I say that, but...I'm just chasing after my dream again. When I played volleyball, I really enjoyed it. I had a lot of friends, and even with the threat of kaiju I was able to live a normal life." Hinata frowns.  
  
"But my parents worried themselves sick over the rest of our family and they struggled to pay for insurance. All they could focus on was keeping us safe and healthy, and although they tried to smile through it all, Natsu and I still saw everything. And then Natsu lost her best friend in a kaiju attack when she was on vacation, and she wasn't really the same. Her eyes were always puffy and she stopped going outside as much. And there I was, still playing the same sport I loved, through all of that. Volleyball became worthless with the knowledge that everyone I loved was suffering in the back of my mind.  
  
"I knew I wanted to pilot when I saw that tape. Small Giant was just incredible, and I was entranced. So even with everything going on, I...I left them for a hope. I just pray that what little we get paid can help make up for abandoning them. And I pray that I can save them from a kaiju attack, some day."  
  
He glances over at Kageyama, who looks deep in thought, eyebrows pulled together. Hinata taps at his mind, and Kageyama shoots him a _look_. Hinata jolts back. "S-sorry! You probably didn't want to hear my whole life story. I just got a little carried away..."  
  
Kageyama turns on his side, and Hinata flinches again, even though he can't sense any anger or irritation from Kageyama. "Hinata," Kageyama says, low and commanding.  
  
"Y-yes?" Hinata barks, turning on his side too.  
  
Kageyama takes a deep breath, and then exhales. "I want to ask something of you. It isn't fair of me, and it isn't right as a pilot, but it's something _I as a person_ need. Okay?"  
  
Hinata tilts his head a little, but nods. Kageyama doesn't meet his eyes. "About that memory...the one that I panicked and refused to show you..." Hinata's eyes widen because _didn't he blame it on me in the end?_ but Kageyama continues. "I know that it seems like I didn't trust you and because of that I yanked you away. But that is not the reason. Especially with how much you have fought and suffered...I do not want to burden you with what I have seen."  
  
"Isn't that the point of having a co-pilot?" Hinata objects. "Someone to share the burden with? And besides, I thought that memory was just embarrassing to you..." He breaks off when Kageyama shakes his head.  
  
"You saw the tail end, which, although it is a fantastic show of weakness, is not why I don't want you to see it. Please. I know, I keep on asking you, over and over to trust me, but I must once more. You have given and given, with little in return so I don't know if..."  
  
Hinata stops him with a feather-light brush across the Ghost Drift. "There's nothing in your brain that feels hostile. You don't have an ulterior motive. I can tell that this time, you only have my best interests in mind. I'll admit, I don't like it..." He sits up. "...But once more."  
  
Kageyama also sits up, looking at his lap. "...Thank you."  
  
Hinata grins and punches him in the shoulder. Kageyama jerks from his serious trance and glares at his partner, who is already up and walking backwards in preemptive wariness. Kageyama stands and pads over to him, asserting his greater height. Hinata doesn't look frightened at all, unfortunately. "You should smile like you did back there more often," he says with a laugh. "You look _way_ less scary than usual."  
  
Kageyama moves to cuff him, but Hinata ducks under his arm and runs out the door, Kageyama hot on his heels with a "What the hell is that supposed to mean, moron?" tossed after him. Hinata doesn't reply, but runs full speed ahead with a whoop, and Kageyama sighs to himself once and picks up speed, their connection a fuzzy trail following the exuberant newbie.  
  
Kageyama catches him in front of Daichi and Koushi's door, Hinata fixing him with a raised eyebrow and an implied 'what took you so long?' They present themselves and their willingness to test Drift again to the veterans, who both approve immediately and set up the next day as a test. Koushi fairly sags in relief, and Daichi might have been beaming.  
  
In the end, they never find sparring necessary at all.  
  
\----------------------------  
  
If the first two walks to the test Drift pods were nervously energetic and painfully awkward, then this one was certainly a complete 180 from the previous. Daichi and Koushi don't even lead the procession—they follow. Hinata is leaping around, running ahead, before turning and falling into step with the more composed Kageyama. Kageyama is snapping at him in a way that could be considered grudgingly affectionate, and overall, Daichi and Koushi are pretty sure they've never been better. An air of anticipation and excitement hangs about the group, a wonderful change of pace for the pilots.  
  
Michimiya greets them at the door this time, an eyebrow raised at the newbies' energy and general good vibes. "What sort of medication have you put them on, Sawamura? This isn't what I expected at all."  
  
Noticing the head Drift tech for the first time, Hinata walks up to her, Kageyama at his side, and they bow in unison. "We're sorry for causing you and your staff trouble, Michimiya-san," Hinata apologizes sincerely for the both of them.  
  
A little flustered, she fiddles with her clipboard in response. "Ah, that's—well it's my job anyway to deal with troublesome rookies, so there's no need to be so polite..." She puts a hand on her hip. "Make it up to me by putting out some good results, okay? And none of that insanely unified stuff, either!"  
  
"Ossu!" Hinata and Kageyama reply in unison, following her through the door.  
  
"Hey, Kageyama," Hinata murmurs. "What d'you think she means by 'insanely unified stuff'?"  
  
Kageyama shrugs. "Maybe it's a technical term?" He whispers back. Hinata makes a face at that, and he's about to launch himself into an argument, when Koushi breaks in with a huff.  
  
"Just get yourself into the test pods without any casualties, okay?" Chastised, the two are quiet for the rest of the time while the techs put on their suits. Well, for as long as Hinata can keep himself still and quiet.  
  
"Oi," he summons, and Kageyama looks over at him, the very picture of suffering. Hinata chews his lip, a thought from their first test Drift reappearing. "These test suits...they aren't very comfortable, right?"  
  
Kageyama's expression changes to one of disbelief and _are you kidding me how can you be so stupid_. "What a stupid question, you dumbass. Of course they're uncomfortable, they pinch in all the wrong places and they don't fit my build right at all. Isn't that the case for everyone?"  
  
Hinata rolls his eyes at the 'dumbass', pouting. "Hmph, just wondering, jeez. You're so prickly." But he can't help the little flutter of happiness in his gut and the thought of _even prodigies, then_. Kageyama glances over at him again in slight concern at how weird he is acting, but Hinata waves him off as they're lowered into position. He closes his eyes, and then, they are in.  
  
Kageyama is with him almost instantly when they arrive at the in-between. Their presences mix comfortably, even though Hinata is vaguely creeped out.  
  
_Ew_ , he says. _This feels so gross. I never really minded the nothingness before, but now it just feels really clinical and cold. Is that the feeling of machinery mediating our interaction? I feel like I got stuffed in a freezer. Or a fish tank._  
  
_Ugh, I have to agree,_ Kageyama hisses. _Your mind feels faded and corroded. It's like someone handed me a poorly made copy. That is you, right?  
_  
_Yeah, it's me_. Hinata gets the same kind of feeling from Kageyama. He's cold when he should be hot, and touching his presence leaves him with a bad taste in his mouth. _Let's get this over with. You nervous?_  
  
_Of course not, imbecile._ Despite his sharp words, Kageyama hesitates to form the bridge. _Follow my lead?_  
  
He says it like a question, and Hinata kind of wants to hit him. _Duh, that's what we decided. Don't make me change my mind. I'm rolling my eyes at you, by the way._  
  
Kageyama doesn't hesitate after his words, and they grow in and together. Hinata blinks, and then he is Kageyama, and Kageyama is him. They watch the memories flow from their unified minds, as one. Hinata understands, as the thoughts and feelings at the back of his mind shift against his will, that this isn't truly _his_ mind anymore, as he had thought before, but a communal plane of existence, inhabited by two. They examine the memories in detached oneness, quietly observant.  
  
It appears, as always, that one memory, and they tense in anxiety. Hinata pulls at their thoughts, urging that one memory on. Kageyama, too, lets it slip through the fine tooth comb of their twin mind. It passes like all the others, undisturbed and pure. Hinata looks forward to see it—the other end of the bridge—heart fluttering in excitement as they pass the threshold.  
  
Hinata opens his eyes again, seeing the Drift techs looking over him anxiously, but he is not alone. Kageyama looks with him, through his eyes, while Hinata, too, watches the techs swarm Kageyama's body. _Amazing,_ he thinks, and meets Kageyama's eyes at the same time he looks over to Hinata.  
  
"I can hear your thoughts!" Hinata exclaims. "No, more like they're my thoughts, too...but our bodies...we feel like one. I'm not even me anymore—"  
  
"—I am you, too," Kageyama finishes, a fiercely triumphant grin on his face. "Congratulations, us."

  
"Yes!" Hinata fist pumps, Kageyama mirroring the action. The door to their pod opens, and Koushi darts in, face aglow.  
  
"Oh my god, I knew you two could do it!" He says, hand on his heart. "How are you? Does everything feel okay? You aren't jostling for control, right?"  
  
"Everything is great Suga-san," Hinata assures him. "I can't really describe it at all—it's not really like having two bodies—it’s just—"  
  
"—it's like having a whole new body, twice as strong and smart as your old one, is what he means to say," Kageyama finishes, _again_ , and Hinata is way too thrilled to be angry.  
  
Koushi grins. "I know the feeling. Pretty spectacular, eh? Well, you two are all fine where results are concerned, so I'm pretty sure we can call this a success. We'll have you run a few movement and sync tests before we cut you off, alright? If everything goes swimmingly, we should have you in your Jaeger tomorrow."  
  
"Sounds like a plan," Kageyama nods sharply, vibrating with excitement. Koushi had never seen him this wound up before, but he suspects Drifting with Hinata has done him some good. He gives them a thumbs up before ducking back out, leaving the real work to the techs who knew what they were doing.  
  
Up in the control tower, Michimiya sighs in resignation, shaking her head, but she's smiling. "Well, so much for 'none of that crazy synchronicity'. I'm going to have a field day with these results. You ever seen something like this, Sawamura?"  
  
Daichi looks at the screen and can only shrug weakly. "I mean...it's not a bad thing, right? To be that unified with your co-pilot." The screen, which should show two jagged lines intersecting and twining closer with the increased strength of the Drift, shows instead a flat line, with only the occasional bips breaking its perfect horizontal straight. Michimiya gives him a dirty look.  
  
"Since we haven't _ever_ seen perfect synchronization, we wouldn't know, now, would we? Let's just hope it's good enough to pilot that monstrosity of a Jaeger Noya keeps yapping about."  
  
Daichi nudges her shoulder. "Hey, at least they proved they can Drift. You were rooting for them too, I know you were. Also, Noya isn't supposed to talk about the Jaeger that may or may not exist."  
  
Michimiya grins. "Please, like Noya can resist talking to anything that doesn't have a Y chromosome. Curiosity got the best of me, how was I supposed to know it was his child?" She glances up as the other tests begin, clicking her tongue in amazement at the incoming results.  
  
"Che, of course they're stellar at these, too. I'm a little relieved that they don't beat out our ace team, though. They've got something to work on after all. Oh, Suga's back," she breaks to acknowledge Koushi's arrival. "You two better make them into the best team ever, you hear? If this potential goes to waste, I'll never let you hear the end of it."  
  
"I wouldn't be too worried about them," Koushi says, a smile in his voice. "Even Kageyama's raring to be put in a Jaeger. If they can't do it, no one can." He walks up to the computers lining the edge of the control tower. Leaning on Daichi, he whistles at their sync rate. "Sheesh. That's certainly something to hold. Marshal Ukai is going to be thrilled."  
  
"The Marshal?" Daichi raises an eyebrow. "I think you mean Takeda-sensei and Noya are going to be crying and hysterical with joy. Tanaka, too. I'm sure he's sick of Noya's whining. Tyrant Omega has been so finicky as well."  
  
Koushi laughs and nods in agreement. "I'll send out the info right away, if you want to see them back to their room. Yui, you don't mind making me some copies, do you?" She shakes her head and drags him over to the printouts, their heads already together in discussion.  
  
Daichi rolls his eyes. "Don't keep my boy too long, okay Michimiya? It's hard to be the lead Jaeger team without my other half." Koushi glances back at him fondly and flicks him across their bond. Michimiya raises her eyebrows, and Koushi shoos Daichi with a wave of his hand.  
  
"It's like watching your kids grow up, huh?" Michimiya says slyly to Koushi, who laughs and shakes his head.  
  
"You know? It really is. I hope I've been a good mother to them. God knows Daichi's been a strict father," he says, and Michimiya giggles. "We're very proud of that oddball duo, I must say," he adds softly, and they get to work organizing a file for the Marshal and his scientists.  
  
Back in their rooms, with instructions to eat well and rest up, Kageyama and Hinata lie wide awake in their beds, pretending to make shape of the darkness on the ceiling. Kageyama turns on his side, looking at Hinata's featureless black form. Hinata mirrors the movement subconsciously.  
  
"Our Drift was really strong today," Kageyama says softly, voice barely above a whisper. "Your trust...it was really, really strong."  
  
"You're welcome," Hinata huffs good-naturedly.  
  
Kageyama goes to roll his eyes before he realizes Hinata won't see it. "Daichi-san said we performed off the chart, and Suga-san seemed pretty happy, too. But is it really so natural for you to put all that faith in me?"  
  
"It's not faith in _you_ , idiot," Hinata murmurs sleepily. "It's faith in _us_. Now, I'm going to sleep because I don't want to be drowsy piloting a Jaeger for the first time." They're both silent for a moment, the power of the thought _piloting a Jaeger_ stunning them in awe. They laugh quietly before curling back into their private thoughts, settling in for sleep.  
  
_Us, huh?_ Kageyama thinks. _I need to put faith in **us**._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhhhhh so this was probably the chapter with the heaviest amount of ghost drift in it. i've got one more like this to come, but for the rest of the fic, it should be just another element in the universe.
> 
> kagehina.....beautiful kagehina.......(how do u guys feel about my kagehina? in character? developing too fast?)
> 
> (title from "Tornado" by Jónsi)


	4. with measurements and aerospace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and with this, we jump to almost 60,000 words fml--but on the plus side, introducing the entirety of karasuno!
> 
> IM JUST?? THANK YOU GUYS AGAIN SO MUCH FOR THE SUPPORT!! i have received so many nice comments and asks, it really keeps me going even with senior year ib, hahaha.
> 
> deds have to go to [**westerbroski**](http://westerbroski.tumblr.com), [**exorcistventus**](exorcistventus.tumblr.com), [**quesozombie**](quesozombie.tumblr.com) for their incredible art linked below!!
> 
>       [**THE FIRST KAGEHINS**](http://quesozombie.tumblr.com/post/96046396799/ok-omg-it-took-me-so-much-courage-to-post-this-i) // [**kagehina ghost drift scene!**](http://exorcistventus.tumblr.com/post/96134945494/nnnbnn-i-had-to-do-this-i-had-to-draw-this-scene) // [**more lovely daisugas!!**](http://westerbroski.tumblr.com/post/96588179553)
> 
> one last comment--i've been using italics for Drifting and thoughts, now i'll be using bold for anyone speaking over the com and to the jaegers. and uh, omega also gets the spotlight a bit.

Kageyama is prepared for many unexpected occurrences in his daily life, ranging from inconsequential (the cafeteria is out of his usual meal; Hinata wants to train on his own today) to absolutely disastrous (he's kicked out of the pilot training program; Tsukishima and Yamaguchi become the new point team), but he is not prepared to be woken up by a catapult of heat and energy, stabbing him with sharp points and crushing him with its weight.  
  
 _Not it,_ his mind supplies unhelpfully. _Hinata._  
  
Hinata is on his bed, _jumping on him_ , it appears, with little to no regard for personal space or comfort. He's shaking Kageyama and rolling on his stomach, and when Kageyama's eyes jerk open in surprise at the first blow, he finds that Hinata is wild-eyed and fully dressed.  
  
"Get up, _Baka_ geyama!" He shouts, punctuating the volume of his voice with another hop. "Didn't you get enough sleep already? Lazy~!" Kageyama makes the transition from 'rudely awakened' to 'experiencing Hinata-induced rage' in record time.  
  
He grabs Hinata's arm and flips him over, burning holes through the moron's skull, hoping that even just a fraction of his raw fury is expressed. "You fucking bastard, I am _so_ going to—"  
  
"Our Jaeger, Kageyama! We get to pilot him today!" Hinata breaks in. For once, he does not seem to even compute Kageyama's anger. He sits right back up, nearly knocking their foreheads together. "Get dressed, let's go!"  
  
Kageyama's brain shorts out a little when Hinata fumbles at the hem of his shirt and starts _pulling it up._ Kageyama's stomach muscles jerk at the accidental skin-to-skin contact, and he blanks. Acting on instinct alone, he snatches Hinata's hand and throws him off the bed in one movement, before Hinata can reach his chest. A muffled 'oww' comes from the ground.  
  
"Dumbass Hinata! Don't just go around stripping people!" Kageyama shrieks, hysterical. "You're an actual pervert!"  
  
Hinata sits up from the ground and arches an eyebrow. "Pervert? Listen to yourself talk. No, wait, don't do that, just get ready, real fast!" He proceeds to leap to his feet and run from the room. By the time Kageyama has slowed his heartbeat to a normal rate, he can hear the clatter of dishes in their kitchen. He gets changed while cursing Hinata, hurrying to make his own breakfast.  
  
When they're finally ready to go, Hinata is pacing around Kageyama like a dog insistent on attention, and Kageyama doesn't bother trying not to kick or trip over him. They scream at each other over their food and their connection crackles with so much energy, Kageyama figures they could power a small town on willpower and arguments alone.  
  
Hinata yanks open the door when Kageyama _gets his shoes on, fucking **finally** , were you going to take all year?_ to reveal a startled Daichi in the middle of reaching to knock. Hinata leaps back with an 'ack!' of his own surprise, and straight into Kageyama, who clamps down on his shoulders, anchoring him in place.  
  
"'Morning," Kageyama greets them gruffly, like he wasn't just in their room screaming right back at Hinata. Hinata, knowing this, fixes him with a dirty look.  
  
"Good morning," Koushi replies, trying to hide his laughter behind his hand. "And you thought we'd be too early," he adds for Daichi's benefit, eyes shining.  
  
Daichi kicks his partner softly in the leg. "I am so gonna almost sock you one, one day, Sugawara Koushi, mark my words," he grumbles with a fake scowl, which his partner returns with a knowing smile. Daichi turns to the newbies. "Well, seeing as you're still not allowed in the Shatterdome by yourselves, even as pilots-in-training, we're here to escort you. Also, there are some introductions that need to take place. You were, ah, otherwise occupied last time we went to see your Jaeger." And suddenly, neither of the new pilots can meet his eyes.  
  
"Eh, that's all in the past now. Let's head off to see Tyrant Omega and meet his parents and creators," Daichi says easily, Koushi giving an approving dip of his head. Revived, Hinata attempts to shoot forward.  
  
Kageyama holds him back and traps him in a headlock, squeezing his head. "Calm down, you idiot," he growls, clicking his tongue at Hinata's yowls of protest.  
  
"Ow ow ow, Kageyama, you jerk! That hurts!" He pushes fruitlessly away from his partner, who ignores his struggles and nods to the veterans to lead.  
  
Koushi's not mean enough to whisper "fight on, Hinata!", but Daichi is, and the two giggle like the kids they are. Hinata makes a pathetic and humiliated face in response and Kageyama releases him with a sigh, ruffling his hair as one final insult. Hinata scowls at him, but Kageyama reminds him of where they're going with a nudge across the Ghost Drift, and he brightens immediately in response.  
  
The Shatterdome isn't any less amazing the second time they arrive, although it is quieter and less crowded than Hinata's first experience. The staff buzzing around the bases of the Jaegers don't seem to be doing any repairs, just routine diagnostics. Apocalypto Alpha was fully repaired from the small skirmish she had just been in, and Gold Strike hadn’t seen any action in a few months. It seemed that the kaiju attacks were focusing in on other countries—a lucky break. Not that the kaiju followed any kind of pattern; the categories, abilities, and targets of each kaiju were as varied as it got. The mathematicians and kaiju prediction teams had their work cut out for them, studying the random events to search for a correlation.  
  
Hinata drops from in front of Kageyama to behind him, peering around at his surroundings while always maintaining a physical link between them. His awed noises of 'uwah' and 'oooh' would have normally aggravated Kageyama to the point of beating on his partner, but he's quiet in thought. Feeling Hinata's amazement is more than a little bit entertaining, though he does shush him when Koushi jogs ahead to meet a scientist who waved him over.  
  
The pair chat familiarly, and Kageyama scrutinizes the new member of their party, Hinata mirroring him. The man is (amazingly) shorter than Daichi and Koushi, with ruffled hair and glasses slightly askew, giving him the look of a kid who had just rolled out of bed. Nevertheless, Daichi bows to him politely when the three catch up to Koushi.  
  
 _A mad scientist...?_ Hinata wonders, his thoughts accidentally jumping to Kageyama from where he clings to his arm. Kageyama has to fight a sudden onslaught of laughter, stifling it by smacking Hinata in the back with an 'oi, shut up!'  
  
Koushi gestures to his idiot trainees. "Ah, Takeda-sensei, these are our new pilots, Kageyama Tobio and Hinata Shouyou. You weren't formally introduced last time, although I'm _sure_ they're well behaved now. Right boys?" He shoots them a significant look, and the two bow deeply.  
  
"Nice to meet you," they say in unison, although Hinata tilts his head, looking closely at Takeda-sensei when they straighten up. He reads the title embroidered on his lab coat and frowns.  
  
"Um...Takeda-sensei? You're a head scientist, even though you're so young?" Kageyama has a coughing fit at Hinata's bluntness. Koushi sighs, as if he expected this.  
  
"Not just _a_ head scientist," Daichi answers. "He's _the_ head scientist—of the entire base. Second in command to the Marshal and half of the design team of Tyrant Omega."  
  
Hinata gapes and then, realizing his impoliteness, bows again. "Ack! I'm very sorry for my rudeness! Please forgive me, Takeda-sama."  
  
Takeda laughs easily and waves his hand. "No need for all that, Hinata-kun. You may not believe it, but I'm actually in my thirties. I get mistaken for a kid quite often; you're certainly not the first." He grins at the pair, eyes bright and face flushed in excitement. "Well, in any case, I've seen your test Drift scores, and I must say, I'm glad you two are on board with our project. You've had a rough few months, but all your hard work pays off right here, right now."  
  
Hinata and Kageyama exchange glances, all wobbly smiles and barely restrained energy. Takeda-sensei turns, and the group follows him as he explains the history of their Jaeger. “I’m sure Daichi-kun and Suga-kun told you that Omega is a Test Mark Jaeger, right?” The two nod. “Ah, but did they tell you _why_ Omega is a test type?”

Kageyama shrugs. “He’s small, isn’t he? Aren’t you just trying a new design?”

Takeda-sensei shakes his head, a wicked smile on his face. “Nishinoya-kun could explain it to you better than I, but I’ll do my best. What we’re trying with Tyrant Omega is utilizing the most potent traits of both sides of this war. We may have powerful weapons, strong machines, and human intelligence, but the kaiju have speed, destructive power, and ultimately the ability to evolve through their experiences.”

“What are you getting at?” Kageyama asks, mind already working.

“Omega isn’t just a weird-looking Jaeger,” Takeda explains. “He is actually a combination of kaiju tissue and muscle and machinery. He is quite literally a hybrid of beast and technology.”

 _That’s…is that even **possible**?! _ Hinata and Kageyama share the thought, gaping at the head scientist. Kageyama shakes his head. “How would you even get the muscles to work? And where would you pull the tissue from? There’s no way a human could control a kaiju’s muscles, it’s just impossible…” He looks up at Takeda and the veteran pilots, who are smiling, but without a single shred of humor in their eyes. “You’re not joking…” he finishes weakly.

“Uwaah!” Hinata exclaims. “So Omega really _is_ a unique, one-of-a-kind Jaeger! The first ever! Ah, I want to pilot him right now!” Hinata’s eyes are sparkling, making Kageyama want to punch him. _How could he just accept this so easily?_

“Idiot,” he hisses. “You think you could control a kaiju? One of the ones that has destroyed the lives of millions of people?”

Hinata pauses at that, looking at Kageyama seriously. “What? Of course not.”

Kageyama smacks himself in the face. “Then _why_ are you so—”

“I could never do it on my own,” Hinata continues. “But it’s all okay, ‘cause I’ve got you, right?”

The veterans exchange soft, knowing smiles, as Kageyama flushes red and starts yelling at Hinata, who just gives him a confused look, saying, _what? I’m just telling the truth, we can do anything together!_ Takeda-sensei rubs the back of his head sheepishly. “Did we really have to worry about them getting along at all…?”

Koushi and Daichi laugh, a beautiful mix of light and deep, and even Kageyama stops trying to crush Hinata to look at them. Koushi looks at them all, blushing a little, and says, “Everything’s just worked out so well, I’m really happy.” He pauses, blushing harder. “Thank you, everyone…I guess I wanted to say something like that. I’m glad to have you all aboard!” Koushi smiles then, taking everyone’s heart with it.

Hinata and Kageyama bow, stuttering out, “T-thank you for putting up with us, too, senpai!” There’s a moment of feel-good peace amongst the group before Daichi coughs.

“A-anyway, let’s get going, shall we? There’re way more people you troublesome pair have to meet, in any case.” Takeda-sensei nods, and gestures towards Tyrant Omega’s hangar.

“Kageyama-kun, your questions are excellent. However, I’m more of the expert on the design and mechanics of the Jaeger, not so much the kaiju-related elements. For those, I’ll have to refer you to a more knowledgeable source.” The group files into the hangar, where they are greeted by the echoes of shouting. Curious, they walk up to Tyrant Omega in his fully-completed splendor.

“His head is attached…?” Kageyama wonders aloud, and Hinata can only stare. All other Marks keep the Conn-Pod, located in the ‘head’ of the Jaeger, separate, dropping it onto the rest of the Jaeger’s body before a mission. In that way, the careful calibration and delicate tweaks to the system can be made separately from the main body. Also, it separated the work stations of Jaeger technicians and mechanics so there was significantly less confusion.

However, in Omega’s case, the head is attached to the body. Hinata had wondered, last time, what the head looked like, and now he kind of regrets seeing it. It’s not even remotely human. Hunching forward, Omega looks like it could drop to four legs and run at any second. The head is even more alien than the rest of its muscled body—the Conn-Pod sitting forward, leaving room behind for a spiked crown of _horns_ , of all things, sitting over something that looks distinctly like a _mouth_. Hinata shrinks behind Kageyama, once again, but this time, Kageyama steps forward a little, shielding him. No one is able to tear their eyes from the Jaeger.

“Ah,” Takeda-sensei says in surprise, noting that even Daichi is eyeing it suspiciously, while Koushi grabs at his arm. “I know it’s a little shocking the first time you see it, but really, there’s nothing to fear. He’s not alive, and he’s still a machine; there’s nothing about him that can hurt you.” The pilots seem only minimally comforted and still uneasy, even with his reassurances.

By now, however, the sounds of an argument are clearly audible. “Oi, Ryuu! The hell kind of knot is this?! You want me to fall to my death?”

“Bastard, maybe if you used the lift, _like a normal human being_ , instead of some crazed animal, then you wouldn’t need me to tie that knot _five hundred fucking times_! Ever think of that?”

Daichi and Koushi relax visibly at the sound of the voices, exchanging glances. They walk forward, and Daichi cups his hands around his mouth. “Hey, you idiots! I see you’ve tied the knot! Congratulations!”

There’s the sound of scuffling, clanging metal, and muffled curses, before someone sticks their head out from above Omega’s shoulder. “Who the he—oh! Daichi! Hey Yuu, Daichi’s here, and he brought company!” Another head pops up after a moment.

“Ohhhh! Are those guys who I think they are, Daichi? Ah, and Take-chan’s here, too! It’s a party!” The guy who had just spoken climbs over the shoulder of the Jaeger, while the other curses and barks at him.

“Yuu! What are you th—”

And then, he steps straight off the Jaeger, plummeting downwards. Hinata, Kageyama, and Takeda gasp, but Koushi only groans in response. The cables attached to him slow his fall so that he doesn’t tumble to his death or snap his neck, bouncing slightly at the end when he touches down. Proud of himself, the guy trots over to Daichi and Koushi, head held high.

“Noya…” Daichi starts, suffering in his voice. “Do you really have to?”

Nishinoya shrugs and beams up at his companions. “You like ‘em? They’re bungee cables; Ryuu designed them just for me. Well, most of my crew use the metal cables or the lift, but I like to live on the edge, y’know?” He laughs.

“We know,” Koushi sighs, just as pained as Daichi. “Would it really hurt you to take better care of yourself, though?”

“S-so cool!” Hinata gasps from behind Kageyama. Nishinoya turns to the newbies, grinning.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t the little rascals who’ve put my project on hold!” he says, walking over to them and looking them over.

“You can say ‘little’ all you want,” Kageyama mutters. “But aren’t you…even littler…?”

Hinata straightens up as Nishinoya makes a face at Kageyama. “A-amazing,” he whispers. “You’re even shorter than me!”

“Hey!” he growls. “I had to put up with enough of that from those two tall jerks, Tsukishima and Yamaguchi. Introduce yourselves properly to your superior!”

They stiffen immediately. “Hinata Shouyou, age 22, pilot-in-training, sir!” Hinata barks.

“Kageyama Tobio, age 21, pilot-in-training as well…sir…” Kageyama grinds out.

Nishinoya puffs out his chest. “That’s more like it. But for the record, just Noya-san is fine. We’re glad to have you, Shouyou, Tobio.” He nods to each of them and grins. “I’m Nishinoya Yuu, head of the K-science department and half the brains behind this project. Ask me if you’ve got any questions about the kaiju-y bits behind your Jaeger or just science in general! But leave all the mechanics and engineering to Take-chan and Ryuu…”

“Speaking of,” Daichi adds, nodding to the other person who had been on the Jaeger, now hopping off the lift and making his way towards the group.

“Oi, Yuu, don’t do such reckless things! I’m gonna give you hell if you die and leave this brat of a Jaeger with me, you hear?” Nishinoya gives him a thumbs up.

“Whatever you say, man. Ah, newbies, this is Tanaka Ryuunosuke, head Jaeger mechanic. He’s the one in charge of making sure all these things actually get up and running,” Noya introduces him.

“And it ain’t any walk in the park either,” Tanaka mutters, looking over Kageyama and Hinata himself. “Call me Tanaka-san. You guys sure are trouble, but Daichi and Suga seem to like you, so you can’t be all that bad.” He grins at them. “It’ll be interesting to see how you match up with this finicky pile of garbage.”

The two bow respectfully, and Tanaka and Nishinoya laugh. “Wow, they’re really good after all, huh, Ryuu?”

“Might have to keep them around, I suppose.”

Daichi elbows them both in the sides. “We didn’t just come here to have you bully our recruits. What were you two doing up there, anyway?”

Tanaka rubs his side with a scowl. “Somehow, one of the Conn-Pod cables—out of approximately _800 million_ , you know—got pinched in the shoulder junction, and we had to adjust it. That would be fine and all, if it wasn’t right near some ‘important synthetic kaiju flesh’ or whatever Yuu calls it.”

Nishinoya rolls his eyes. “Synthetic blood vessels and nerve endings, actually. Better watch where you cut, or you’ll end up with a one-armed Jaeger, and god knows _that_ would be useful in battle.”

Kageyama perks up a little. “Synthetic kaiju flesh? Blood vessels?”

“A curious one, eh?” Nishinoya raises an eyebrow. “I’ll fill you guys in as we take the grand tour of Omega. By lift, of course. Take-chan and Ryuu can fill in the gaps!”

Immediately, he waves them towards the fairly unstable looking lift, and Daichi and Suga pause. “Ah…” Daichi murmurs. “I guess we part here for now.” The newbie pilots glance back at them and then to the scientists nervously.

Koushi huffs a laugh. “They don’t bite, you’ll be fine.”

“It’s not them I’m worried about,” Kageyama mutters to himself, eyeing the lift suspiciously.

They follow, regardless. Tanaka waves to someone at the top, and with a creak, the lift moves upwards, Hinata stumbling slightly. Nishinoya looks over the Jaeger with a pride normally reserved for one’s offspring, hands on his hips. Kageyama regards him with a little more scrutiny. Noya-san is certainly not what he had expected. This high-energy and daring man seemed to be more of a delinquent than a scientist, what with his mechanic suit rolled down to the waist and a tank soaked through with sweat, oil, and a light blue substance Kageyama didn’t care to name. He seemed knowledgeable, though, and Hinata had taken to him in a second, talking animatedly with him on the ride up. Kageyama glanced back at Takeda-sensei for comparison and could only slump. There really was no similarity.

“We’re here~!” Nishinoya sings, stepping easily off the lift and onto the Jaeger’s shoulder, without any support. “You guys better stay there, though.”

 _We wouldn’t have moved even if you said so_ , Kageyama thinks, although he can see the curious glint in Hinata’s eyes and grabs a hold of his arm.

“I’ll explain things from the top,” Nishinoya says. “So. Tyrant Omega is composed of synthetic kaiju tissue, a custom Jaeger skeleton, and miles of cables making the whole thing run. He’s shorter than the other Jaegers, yes, but that is to lessen the strain on his muscles. The larger the frame, the heavier the Jaeger, and Omega here was designed for heightened speed and incredible maneuverability. He’s got less projectile based weapons too—focusing more on close combat—so swords, spikes, collision-based weaponry, and even a super taser are more his style. Despite what I said earlier about delicate cables, Omega should actually be more difficult to cut and injure. If you go head-to-head with a kaiju, it’ll have great difficulty trying to rip apart your body. Projectile weapons would destroy him though, so be careful.”

“Again with the muscle,” Kageyama grumbles.

Nishinoya hears him, though and laughs. “Oh, a skeptic then, too? Good, I love those types. You want to know how we were able to put kaiju muscle on a Jaeger? Not easily, I can assure you.” He jumps down into a small cavity in the crook of Tyrant Omega’s shoulder. He physically pulls up a layer of the skin, and everyone save Tanaka winces.

“Gross, right? Wrong. All this ‘muscle’ you see is synthetic. I synthesized the muscles and tissue of the kaiju in order to create this lookalike. Using real kaiju muscle would be impossible, since it decomposes like any other organism, but this is designed to hold strong and last for _years_.” He points to some fine, clear cables with the blue liquid staining his shirt running through them. “Those little guys pump the synthetic blood to run the muscles. These ones actually do use some kaiju blood, because there are proteins in there that we’ve never encountered. It’s thinned with a lubricant and special kind of fuel that only Omega consumes. He’s got a miniature nuclear reactor to take care of the mechanical aspects, but in order to make the muscles move, you need blood.”

He digs in a little, pulling a thicker, striped cable out. “And this one is the nerve cable. It functions like a nerve ending, sending the pilot controls to the muscle. So you really do control his body; he’s got no influence over you.” Shoving the cable back, Nishinoya climbs the head of the Jaeger until he’s standing comfortably in the horns. “This is what really freaks people out. Makes him look like a kaiju for real, but these horns have built-in spikes that can extend either to stab at your enemy or plow into him. Also protects your Conn-Pod. You know how kaiju love to go for the head.”

“And what about the mouth?” Hinata chirps.

“Huh?” Nishinoya blinks in surprise. “What are you talking about?”

Hinata, feeling awkward now that all the attention is on him, points sheepishly towards the bottom of the Conn-Pod. “Isn’t that a mouth?”

“Oh,” Nishinoya says, rubbing his arm. “That’s—that’s not anything really, just a design, you know, to make it look like a head? I mean it also protects from uppercuts too, so…” He shrugs and looks away.

Hinata nods in understanding. “Ah, it’s really convincing! I thought for sure it might bite me for a moment.”

Nishinoya laughs and rubs the back of his head, embarrassed, walking back to the group, but Kageyama feels like something is off. He looks at the base of the Conn-Pod, the so-called ‘mouth’… something doesn’t sit right with him—either in the malicious, close-lipped snarl of the Jaeger or in Nishinoya’s faltering words. He doesn’t say anything about it though, opting for a different question.

“That fuel,” he starts. “You’ve got a lot of it? And where does it feed in?”

Nishinoya brightens. “Ah! It has a biological base, so we’ve got quite a bit of it in supply, no worry there. The tank holding all of it is located in the chest—it’s a central location, and also the most protected area, so you don’t need to worry about it getting punctured or some such in a fight.”

“We’re actually looking into possibly using it as a replacement fuel for oil and gasoline,” Takeda chips in. “Not only would the patent make us a lot of money, but we wouldn’t have to worry about fuel shortages for a long time.”

Nishinoya hops back on the lift. “But I’ll be leaving that to these capable two,” he says, slapping Takeda-sensei and Tanaka on the back. “All that engineering crap goes right over my head.”

“You’re full of it,” Tanaka says with a smirk. “Don’t pretend like you’re not at least a little curious.”

“Nuh-uh,” Noya says, plugging his ears. “I had a chance at university and I did not take it. Science is interesting; fiddling with machines for your Ph.D. is not.”

 _But that’s what you’re doing now…_ Kageyama thinks helplessly.

“Noya-san!” Hinata barks. “When are we going to Drift in Omega?”

“Eager, aren’t you?” Noya replies. “Well, right now we’re waiting for the two main players to arrive. Can’t do anything without them. I’m just giving you the run down while we wait.”

 _Who could be so important as to make them wait?_ Hinata wonders, but Tanaka breaks in.

“Also, we’ve got to fit you guys with your drivesuits. Special Jaeger, special suits, after all. Takeda and I designed ‘em; they should boost your neural connectivity so that you two are just as strongly connected together as you are to your Jaeger. Here’s to hoping you don’t fall out of the Drift like everyone else.” He pats them both on the shoulders.

“Right, Daichi-san mentioned something like that,” Kageyama muses. “What do you mean by ‘fall out of the Drift’? From what he said, it seemed to be to be due to the Jaeger malfunctioning, not the pilots.”

The three exchange anxious glances. Takeda meets Kageyama’s eyes and sighs. “Well, we didn’t want to make you worry or anything, but those who have Drifted in this Jaeger have hit some serious obstacles. Everything is fine until the neural handshake. You know how it goes. They’re Drifting fine with each other, but once they encounter the Jaeger, which should be the easiest part, they’re knocked completely out of the Drift, not just out of synch with each other. There’s nothing at all wrong with them—from what we understand, it’s the _Jaeger_ that rejects the connection. It sounds like it should be impossible, right? A machine rejecting the connection it’s designed for…”

“Sounds like you shouldn’t have been messing with the kaiju, then,” Kageyama blurts out before he can stop himself, and Hinata gapes.

Noya sighs though, and shrugs. “You could very well be right. But I still believe with the right pilots, this ship will sail.”

“We’re still in,” Hinata assures him, touching the back of Kageyama’s hand, and Kageyama answers his question in the affirmative across the bond. “We’ll still give it a shot,” Hinata says, more confidently.

“Let’s get going then!” Tanaka shouts, and Nishinoya whoops, jumping on his back. They dissolve into friendly bickering and roughhousing on the way down, while Takeda-sensei and Hinata cling to the railing for dear life, and Kageyama watches on.

When they’re back on the ground—and Hinata has thrown up from terror alone—the group meets up with Daichi and Koushi, who are trailed by a few Jaeger techs. These ones look far more professional than the test Drift technicians, official uniforms clean and eyes flickering over the two newbies, as if sizing up how well they’ll fit into the drivesuits.

“We’ve gone to the trouble of picking up the experts for you,” Daichi explains. “You two can suit up now.”

Hinata gasps in excitement, and Nishinoya is right with him. “Ryuu’s sketches looked so good, I can’t wait to see the real thing,” he crows.

“Follow me,” the apparent leader of the technicians says. “Tyrant Omega’s pilots have a special Drivesuit Room.”

Tanaka and Takeda-sensei tag along as well, in order to make any last minute tweaks or fixes to the suits. As it turns out, the drivesuit changing room is located up high, too, almost eye-level with Tyrant Omega. The room is bright and clinically clean, not as worn and well-loved as the other rooms where the pilots would suit up. Hinata and Kageyama look around curiously, following the direction of the techs. They are asked to strip down to underwear, something Kageyama did not expect.

“Why?” he asks instinctively.

“You’ll see pretty soon,” Tanaka replies with a mysterious smile. Without the rest of their clothing, the room is actually pretty chilly, and the two newbies shiver and shift uncomfortably, one embarrassed and one irritated.

“Takeda-sensei, if you will?” The lead tech summons Takeda to his side. Together, they open a thin but long case, and pull from it something that looks like a wetsuit. They handle it with a great delicacy and gloved hands, and Kageyama understands that this is more than a mere suit.

“It’s not bulky at all,” Hinata chimes in, surprised.

Tanaka nods. “This suit isn’t armor-like, like the drivesuits you usually see on Jaeger pilots. Those ones have all the wiring inside them to connect the pilots, but these ones use nerve fiber. Instead of cables, the material is made to sit directly on the skin with as little airspace as possible, so that it can detect the slightest movement, change in body temperature, or instinctual twitch of the pilot’s body. Not only does it make your Jaeger more responsive, it links you even closer with your co-pilot. The idea was originally proposed by this prodigious intern at the Tokyo base, serving under their head K-scientist, Yaku Morisuke. I think his name was Haiba? Haiba Lev?

“Well, in any case, once this project was green-lit, Yuu contacted Yaku right away. They’re old acquaintances, and I know Yaku has admired Yuu for quite a while. They dragged Takeda into it, and the four of them worked on the material’s design and composition while I got stuck with figuring how to incorporate a new suit into this already cantankerous Jaeger. Then of course, Takeda and I had to actually _design_ the drivesuits, since Noya is basically useless when it comes to engineering. I won’t lie though, it was pretty freakin’ awesome to just sit in a room with _that_ guy, watching those four geniuses go.”

“ _That_ guy?” Hinata murmurs thoughtfully.

“Ah, you haven’t met him yet,” Tanaka explains. “But he’s really the ace of our little team!”

“The ace?” Hinata wonders.

“You’ll see, you’ll see. Anyway, this is the result of all our hard work. All four share the patent for the nerve fiber, although I’m not sure if they’ve managed to incorporate it into an actual Jaeger yet. Last I heard, they were trying to fit one of the main assists with some. The ones with the super-versatile Jaeger.”

“How exactly are we supposed to fit in these?” Kageyama breaks in, eyeing the suit doubtfully. “It’s so small.”

“That’s the point, Kageyama-kun,” Takeda-sensei soothes. “It needs to be as tight as possible. It should fit like a second skin. That’s why all the techs are here to help.”

Kageyama still isn’t fully certain that he’ll fit in the suit, but he lifts a leg to allow the suit to be slipped on. Takeda-sensei wasn’t lying. Kageyama’s eyes widen at how tight it fits, and he balks. “It’s cutting off my circulation! There’s no way this can be good!” Tanaka flicks him on the forehead.

“Oi, man up, would you? It’s not that bad. You ever put on one of those fast suits that swimmers wear? It’s just like that.”

Kageyama hadn’t, actually, but he couldn’t imagine anyone would willingly put something like this on. The techs weren’t exactly gentle, but the further up the suit went, the better it felt, so Kageyama relaxed. At least once they yanked it past his hips the rest was pulled on from the front and clipped at the back. Kageyama opened and closed his hands, moving around to get the feel for the suit. Incredibly, he kind of felt like he couldn’t tell where his skin ended and the suit’s began.

“Amazing,” he admits grudgingly. From neck to foot, his body was covered in the strangely electric material. Except…there was nothing covering his toes or fingers, save for a thin connection between his big toe and each of his fingers. Additionally, there was a line from neck to tailbone down his back that was left uncovered. “What about…”

“Getting there,” Takeda breaks in with a smile. He fits Kageyama with thin booties and thicker gloves that lock tightly around his wrists and ankles. Finally, another pair of techs pull out the spinal clamp that runs the vertical of his back, but unlike others Kageyama had seen, this one wasn’t moving.

Seeing his questioning look, Takeda explains. “We didn’t want the fabric to get damaged, so we also had to develop a clamp that didn’t move. The material itself is quite strong, but the effectiveness of the nerve fiber would decrease with a spinal clamp banging into it all the time.”

He nods and tries not to wince at the strange feeling of cold metal on his skin. And then, it is done. He walks around a bit, rolling his shoulders, even jumping a few times in place. Takeda-sensei and Tanaka are practically beaming. “Well? What do you think?” Tanaka asks eagerly.

Kageyama stretches his arms above his head and lets them drop, fixing the two with a wicked smile. “I think I’m about ready to kick some kaiju ass,” he growls. There are smiles and congratulations all around, and then it’s Hinata’s turn.

Hinata, for the most part, could only stare, stunned into silence as Kageyama was suited up. Like all the other times they had Drifted together, he had noted how completely comfortable Kageyama seemed. Even with his initial suspicion, Kageyama looked like a hero or royalty to Hinata, and he couldn’t speak. Kageyama looked born for the nerve suit, muscles moving in sync with the material, like they were one. The black of Kageyama’s hair absorbed light in the same way as the black of the suit—why had he ever worn those horrible, clunky white test suits, again? Of course, the fact that his partner and rival was in terrific shape also served to piss off Hinata, who boasted slim and strong muscle, but not the panther-like strength Kageyama had.

(And if seeing the bare line of his spine against the darkness of the suit did funny things to Hinata’s stomach, who could blame him?)

When the techs move to Hinata to put on his suit, Hinata tries to maintain that same air of dignity. It works well until he encounters the same problem as Kageyama—the suit starts cutting into him as soon as it passes his knees. He yelps and falls over, the very picture of grace, and Tanaka bursts out laughing, along with some of the techs. Kageyama only raises an eyebrow in response.

The rest of the fitting, Hinata sulks, although he can’t really keep from smiling when he starts to feel unified with the material, the same way Kageyama had. He jogs in place a little once the spinal clamp is fixed to his back, mesmerized by how natural it feels. Tanaka gives him a high five, and he gets even more wound up because _wow these gloves really do feel great!_

Hinata catches Kageyama staring at him, and gives him a curious look. Kageyama’s mouth twitches into the beginnings of a smile, and he blinks. “It seems to fit you.”

Hinata pouts. “Well duh, it was made specifically for me.”

Kageyama shakes his head, and then color rises to his cheeks. “No, I mean…you look good in it. Like a real Ranger.”

Hinata flushes then, more because Kageyama is than anything. “Don’t blush when you say something like that, idiot, it’s weird!”

“I’m not blushing!” Kageyama denies, and the squabbling begins once again.

“It wouldn’t really be them without a fight though, would it?” Takeda whispers to Tanaka, as the techs usher them out of the room. Tanaka rolls his eyes and clears his throat.

“A-hem!” Two pairs of wild eyes meet his. “This room actually has a bridge to your Jaeger, which you’ll use from now on. Since you’re in a side hangar, and you don’t drop onto your Jaeger, you need to be extra fast, got it?”

“Got it!” They reply in unison, fight forgotten.

The techs leave them to make their way back to Omega’s hangar on their own. When they catch up with Nishinoya and the other pilots, they get whistles. “Nice,” Daichi calls. “You guys look even better than us.”

Noya runs up to Hinata, examining every inch of his body, practically humming with excitement. “Shou-chan! This is perfect! Ah, nerve fiber really does look incredible in person!” Hinata joins him in babbling about how terrific the suit is, while Kageyama steps away.

A hand rests on his shoulder. Kageyama looks to his side to see Koushi smiling at him. “How does it feel to be a real pilot, Kageyama?”

Kageyama shrugs his other shoulder. “We’re not there yet. We still have to prove we can pilot Omega, after all.”

Koushi’s eyes twinkle. “You said ‘we’ just then, you know.”

Kageyama sputters in response and Koushi only laughs lightly. “C’mon, it’s a good thing to think of yourself attached at the hip with Hinata. He’s going to be at your side for the rest of your life. I’m really proud of you, Kageyama.”

“…Thank you, Suga-san,” Kageyama says softly, still a bit embarrassed. “It means a lot to me.”

“Oi, what’s all this celebration about? Did someone go and Drift without me?”

A new voice enters the mix, and everyone turns. Nishinoya yelps happily and Tanaka clicks his tongue.

Walking up to the mess of pilots, scientists, and engineers, the woman in a lab coat who had called out to the group waves, accompanied by a taller man in official military uniform. Daichi and Koushi stiffen in response, and Hinata and Kageyama follow suit.

“Saeko-neesan!” Noya calls, waving frantically in return at the woman.

“Ukai-san,” Takeda says, delighted.

The pair join the group, Daichi and Koushi scrambling to make introductions. “Ah!” Daichi starts. “Marshal Ukai, sir, these are the two pilots-in-training, Kageyama Tobio and Hinata Shouyou. Hinata, Kageyama, this is Marshal Ukai Keishin, highest ranking officer at our base, and the man in charge. Giving Nishinoya a noogie over there is Tanaka Saeko, the chief Drift technician, and officer in charge of monitoring all official pilot to Jaeger Drifts and kaiju defense missions. She’s also Tanaka’s older sister.”

“Thank you, Sawamura,” Ukai says with a nod. And then to Takeda, “It’s good to see you, Takeda. I’ll treat _you_ to drinks this time if everything turns out well.”

“ _I-it’s an honor to meet you, sir!_ ” The newbies respond, bowing deeply. The Ukai family had been in the business of piloting from the very beginning. The current Marshal’s grandfather had been one of the first to pilot a Mark I Jaeger, and had come out of retirement to battle the first Category Three kaiju that crossed from the Breach. Ukai Keishin had piloted as well, known for his wide Drift compatibility. He may not have been in any spectacular battles, but he had seen more action in as many different Jaegers than most of the chief officers running bases around the world. He was a _legend_.

“At ease,” he says to Hinata and Kageyama. “Tanaka, mind greeting the new recruits instead of bothering Nishinoya and your brother?”

Saeko releases her brother from a tight hold and salutes the Marshal. “Yessir!” she chirps. She walks up to Hinata and Kageyama, arms crossed and smirk firmly set in place. “Yui-chan told me all about your spectacular test—but now it’s do or die. I’m in charge of the real deal Drifting, and neither of you have ever Drifted with a Jaeger before. You’ll need to rely on me from now on, okay? I’ll be helping you guys save the world, up in the control room, from here on out. Just ask Saeko-neechan if you have any questions about all this official stuff!”

“Ossu! Thank you Saeko-neechan!” The two shout in response. She grins and ruffles their hair.

“She’s really cool,” Hinata whispers to Kageyama, as the Marshal drifts over to talk to Takeda and the Tyrant Omega project team and Saeko greets Koushi with a hug. Kageyama nods vigorously in response.

Kageyama glances over the gathering. So this was everyone. Save for the other piloting team he’d rather not consider, everyone he would be spending the rest of his time here with was assembled. The dependable and nurturing main team, Daichi-san and Suga-san; the legendary Marshal Ukai and knowledgeable Takeda-sensei; intimidating but friendly Saeko-neechan; and the hyperactive but very intelligent scientist-engineer duo of Noya-san and Tanaka-san. And of course, his partner, who had managed to defy all the odds and stood proud next to Kageyama, suited up and ready to go. Well, somewhat ready to go. Hinata was looking around at everyone critically, head bobbing like a pigeon.

“The hell are you doing?” Kageyama asked, dumbfounded.

Hinata doesn’t even bother looking back at him. “The ace…who is the ace?”

Kageyama thinks about it. “It’s gotta be Saeko-neesan, right? She’s the only one we didn’t know about, and she’s super important. Though I thought the ace was supposed to be a he…”

“Oh, so Noya told you about our ace, huh?” Koushi interrupts, overhearing their conversation.

“Huh? No, Tanaka-san did. Do _you_ know who it is, Suga-san?” Hinata asks, tilting his head.

“Yes I do. But I’m a little surprised Noya didn’t brag to you already about him. He’s the one who’s always going on about how amazing his work is, after all. Coming from someone as smart as Noya, that’s gotta be a complement. He’s also the one who started calling him ace in the first place,” Koushi replies.

“He?” Kageyama says. “It’s really not Tanaka-san’s sister…?”

Koushi shakes his head. “Saeko-san is very important to this base, of course, but when we say ace, we mean someone we would truly be lost without. Ah, but don’t tell him I said that, he’ll probably start stressing over it. Don’t worry over him too much; you’ll meet him after you Drift. Just focus on that right now.”

Kageyama and Hinata nod, jerking when the Marshal’s sharp whistle summons them. The group gathers around the Marshal, Takeda-sensei and Saeko. “Listen up,” Ukai orders. “This is how we’re going to go about the first Drift attempt: Nishinoya, Tanaka—you’re coming with the three of us to the control room. There, you can go through the testing procedures and communicate directly with the pilots if need be. Sawamura, Sugawara—you’re going to guide the pilots into the set up with the techs and be on standby in case anything happens. Kageyama, Hinata—follow your orders and just go with the flow. Remember, there’s no pressure to do this perfectly the first time ‘round, especially with the history this Jaeger has. Just put forth your best effort.”

There’s a resounding “yes, sir”, and then the group breaks off to their designated stations. Hinata’s pumped again—energy and emotion radiating off of him until it even affects Kageyama.

“Oi,” he says, nudging his partner as they ride the lift up to Omega’s Conn-Pod. “You’re projecting.”

“That’s okay, isn’t it?” Hinata says, looking up at him. “Only you can feel it, and you should be more energetic anyway.”

 _You’re nervous,_ Kageyama thinks at him, a hand on his upper arm. Hinata blinks in surprise, and Kageyama is pleased to find that their thought-connection worked through the nerve fiber.

 _Is it that obvious?_ Hinata relents, and Kageyama can feel Hinata’s mind leaning into his.

 _No, but let me help you a little,_ Kageyama replies. He closes his eyes and relaxes, letting calm settle over his bones. He focuses on getting into that perfect state of concentration—and then passing it on to Hinata. He can feel his own senses sharpening and his mind clearing, and then, Hinata loosening up, leaning into him physically as well. _Better?_ Kageyama asks.

_Yeah. Thanks._

The lift stutters to a halt, the veteran pilots leading the newbies out along a metal-grated catwalk to the bridge to the Conn-Pod. The Conn-Pod of Tyrant Omega, like most everything else, was slightly different from the traditional Jaegers. It opened from above instead of the sides, which were guarded and held in place by synthetic kaiju tissue. Once climbing down the ladder into the actual pod, though, the insides were very similar to the Conn-Pods of other Jaegers that Kageyama was familiar with. He walks the small room, eyes darting, taking in all the details.  
  
Daichi notes his curiosity. "Noya and Tanaka decided that it was best to keep the inner layout as similar as possible to traditional Jaegers so that the Jaeger techs can do their job quickly and easily. Also, you two won't have to learn anything different from the simulator controls—just the slight tweaks that come unique to every Jaeger."  
  
Kageyama nods in acknowledgement, but then hesitates. "You say it's similar, but..." He pauses. "Where are Omega's escape hatches? The usual location is the top of the Conn-Pod, but obviously, that's out. Does he even _have_ an escape hatch?"  
  
 **About that** , a voice Kageyama recognizes as Noya's crackles and then steadies over the com. **We decided to bank on the protection of the kaiju tissue rather than create extra escape hatches. The main entrance is all he's got.**  
  
Kageyama clicks his tongue in distaste, but then Hinata is at his side. "You heard what Noya-san before—that tissue is incredibly thick. We're really safe in here, Kageyama, it's alright."  
  
Kageyama sighs and knocks Hinata's shoulder gently. "At least everything else is as expected." He walks over to the command platform, selecting the right side. Hinata rushes over with him, impatient to Drift. The Jaeger techs are positioned and ready to help, while Koushi directs.  
  
"Alright you two," Koushi instructs. "I need you both to step on that platform—yep, that's the one. Backwards, Hinata. Okay, now stand completely still and hold your arms out perpendicular to your body."  
  
The newbies do as they're told and the techs burst into action. Under their feet, the command platform shifts to secure their feet in place and link them to the hydraulics of Omega's walk-run movement system.  
  
"Good," Koushi applauds. "The stiller you stand, the faster and more efficiently your techs will be able to prepare you. Their job is to direct you to the command platform, attach the control gauntlets to your arms, lock your spinal clamps into the physical neural bridge, and give the okay to begin the initiation process. You don't have to do anything until the Drift begins."  
  
 **Also** , Tanaka breaks in over the com. **Be careful with those spinal clamps. They can't be damaged or secured incorrectly, or else the connection will be distorted and your movements won't translate from drivesuit to Jaeger.**  
  
Kageyama and Hinata take the fastening in well, although Koushi is pretty sure Hinata's eyes might be popping out of his head. The techs come by with their helmets, the final step in the process, and fix them to their drivesuits, a special collar-type of seal used to secure the helmets. The techs step away, leaving Koushi to take a moment to admire the newbies in full gear, ready to Drift, with Daichi at his side. "Good luck," he says finally. The two nod at him and Daichi, then the veterans are ushered out by the Jaeger technicians.  
  
And they are alone.  
  
Not even the com crackles with last minute advice or information, and Kageyama feels the silence suffocating him.  
  
"You're not alone," Hinata says quietly, Kageyama realizing too late that he must have been projecting. Hinata shoots him a hopeful smile. "Let's do this," he murmurs, as Kageyama returns his smile with a confident one of his own.  
  
"Of course," he replies.

 **Alrighty, boys** , Saeko’s voice greets them. **We’re about to initiate Omega’s warm-up procedures, so brace yourselves. Jaeger goes live in 5…4…3…2…1…**

To Hinata, it feels like the entire world shifts when Tyrant Omega wakes. They’re only jolted a little bit on their command platform, hydraulic cables swinging below them, but Hinata and Kageyama exchange glances, the thought _a beast awakens_ left uncommunicated between them. Auxiliary lights flicker on in the Conn-Pod, along with their gauntlets, pilot control center, and the massive HUD directly in front of them, displaying stats and the world through Omega’s eyes. A wicked grin slides across Kageyama’s face.

“Nothing like the simulator,” Hinata breathes, his own eyes and smile sharp, a hungry animal given the slightest taste of blood. Like clockwork, the two begin their pre-mission checks, Kageyama taking the lead as the dominant pilot. Most of these would be done after Drifting with the Jaeger, but the pair had gotten in the habit of performing the routine safety and function checks.

“Nuclear reactor stable? Electricity and blood flow fully functional?” Kageyama calls out.

“Affirmative for both,” Hinata replies. “Power levels sufficient, core temperature within restricted values.”

“Oxygen and escape pods prepped and functional,” Kageyama adds. “Hinata, you all clear?”

“All clear,” he responds, and reaches for the com. “Mission Control, we are ready for Drift initiation.”

(“They didn’t have to do all that,” Saeko says, a little bit intimidated by their seriousness and expertise. “It’s just a test.”

“But they did it anyway,” the Marshal murmurs, leaning in a little closer to the window, an expression of deep interest set on his face. Takeda-sensei puffs up his chest a little.)

 **Roger that, Tyrant Omega** , Saeko says, the air of levity in her voice replaced by neutral professionalism. **Engaging Drift synchronization…now.**

The drop into nothingness is not new to Kageyama by any means, but this time, there is a current of electric anticipation in the in-between, drawing him to Hinata before he can even think to look for him. Hinata’s presence crashes around him, flooding the edges of his mind and then stopping just shy of forming the bridge. Hinata’s mind is _on fire_.

Kageyama knows that fire. He knows the flicker and burst of Hinata’s mind, the way it brushes him like a feather or a jet plane, all depending on his mood. He’s the least compatible pilot Kageyama’s ever had the displeasure to Drift with, but today, there’s something in the wildfire of Hinata’s consciousness that stirs him to wakefulness. It’s biting—almost painful—to touch Hinata like this, but he is _starved_ for the connection and the Drift, just waiting for the go-ahead on Kageyama’s part. _Ah, so this is what they mean by infinite potential_ , Kageyama sighs, slightly humbled. _Not a prodigy, but an empty canvas, hm?_

 _Huh?_ Hinata breaks from his trance slightly, at Kageyama’s words. _What’s a what?_

 _Don’t worry about it, idiot. We’ve got to do this right, okay?_ Kageyama redirects the conversation.

 _I’m ready when you are_ , Hinata replies, a certain undercurrent to his voice.

 _Then lead away_ , Kageyama says, baring his inner mind to Hinata.

Hinata hesitates, not expecting the show of submission and complete deference to him, but he doesn’t ask Kageyama why. He supposes it’s fairly obvious. ‘ _It’s faith in **us** ’._

Hinata pours over him in a fluid movement, and Kageyama is sure he gasps aloud as the fire washes over him. He’d never allowed this before—never let his partners take the lead. But he supposes Hinata was the very definition of an exception, to him. Their minds bind themselves tightly, and then Kageyama truly cannot feel an ‘I’. They cross the bridge interwoven, waking to the Drift on the other side.

 **Jesus H. Christ** , Saeko mumbles over the com. **Yui-chan really wasn’t making this up. Are you still two different people?**

There’s a trace of vague dislike that rises from the two pilots at the thought of being the same person, and they have to smile. “I’m still short,” Hinata replies with a laugh, pressing the com. Saeko returns it with her own giggle, and then the Marshal clears his throat expectantly, switching them back to business.

 **Good, this is really good. Okay, I know you two have never Drifted with a Jaeger before, and unfortunately we have to start you on the hardest one. When I initiate the neural handshake, you two will have to approach Tyrant Omega on your own—he won’t come to you, since he doesn’t have a consciousness. It’s going to feel unpleasant—I’ve heard the initial contact described as cold, slimy, heavy, and even sharp. Don’t reject this connection. It helps if you pretend like you’re reaching through the gunk of his presence to something in the middle** , Saeko dictates.

**You actually have a few tries since the connection won’t drop, but the more times you try to Drift, the harder it gets, and we’ll have to restart eventually. Once you’ve bonded with your Jaeger, you should be able to feel it like an extension of your body, from the nerve suit to the plasma cannon. It’ll be tingly. Normally, you should feel like you’re in a shell or a small cave—but not suffocatingly so—however, we’ve received mixed reports about Omega. Some say it feels like they can’t breathe, others say it’s too big and empty. Be prepared for anything.**

“Roger that,” Kageyama and Hinata reply. They steady themselves as Saeko barks orders at a few of her Drift techs.

**…Here it goes. Initiating neural handshake in 3…2…1…**

This time, Hinata is surprised to find the bridge already built. It’s not visible or even tangible by any of the five senses—but it’s a sixth sense that tells Hinata where to walk and how to go. He might have been frightened by the quiet and definite trail to Omega, but Kageyama was with him, both in front and behind, breathing in and out in time with him. Their combined mind is heavy, but they plod to the end of the path steadily, until they hit a presence that makes them balk.

 _Don’t touch it!_ Kageyama yells, panic flooding them both.

Hinata feels it, too. This massive, hulking _thing_ —it could only be Tyrant Omega. It stretches on in every direction, as far as Hinata can sense, and its density is almost palpable. But it feels _bad_ , it feels _wrong_ , and Hinata shrinks from it with Kageyama. Their hearts are pounding, and they feel lightheaded, Kageyama worrying that the plug will be pulled for health concerns if this keeps up.

 _It’s…not supposed to move…_ Hinata says in a small, frightened voice. That was so, but…

Wisps of the thing’s presence drifted out towards them in interest. They leap back, unthinkingly. The pilots cower away from the curious tendril that lazily floats away from them when they move out of range. The presence itself didn’t move; it stretched, as if with feelers, testing the world around it with an almost childlike curiosity. If it wasn’t so terrifyingly _ominous_ a consciousness, Hinata could have almost called it endearing.

 _It’s…alive_ , he concludes, and he can feel Kageyama concur with him. _But it’s trapped—it can’t get us, here_. Again, Kageyama agrees.

Hinata observes the dainty touch of the appalling tendrils and attempts to feel something other than dread buried deep in his gut. It doesn’t really work, but he finds his resolve.

 _We have to touch it_ , Kageyama grinds out, speaking their thoughts. _We can’t Drift with it if we don’t touch it._

Neither of them have any desire to do so, but their drive to push forward and succeed forces them to step closer. Another step, and another, and then they are in range. Again, the wisp comes for them, making Hinata want to throw up with how frightened he is, but it doesn’t touch them, just observes in its own way, swirling around their mind. _He won’t come to you, since he doesn’t have a consciousness_ —Saeko-neechan’s words echo, but Hinata can only find the first half to be true.

They reach out together—trembling and terrified—but together. This invitation is all the thing needs before the wisps wraps around their extension of presence and pulls them in. Their mind goes white with fear, but then…

Tyrant Omega reminds Hinata of a kitten—a comparison he finds amusing, considering his fear, but also strangely accurate. The feel of the Jaeger, once they get past its exterior is that of a slow-moving consciousness, responsive to their emotions and thoughts. Hinata reaches out again, and brushes Omega’s ‘mind’. He can feel the gentle purr of its not-thought, like a chest rising up and down, heavy with sleep. Kageyama, too, is dumbfounded by the vastness of Omega, and its recognition of their minds. It isn’t sentient, by any means, but it knows they are there.

 _This is what they meant by ‘able to evolve’, huh?_ Kageyama wonders. _A machine with the capacity to understand our needs and react to them._

 _He really is beautiful,_ Hinata sighs. _Come on, let’s Drift. I don’t think he’ll be any trouble._

Once more, they reach for the core of the Jaeger, left unguarded, even by the presence that watched their movements with slight interest. They take hold of it, and it takes hold of them—truly a neural handshake. When the pilots blink their eyes open again, Saeko’s voice echoing around them, high with joy, they know they have been successful.

They feel down Omega’s arms and legs, his back and chest stretching. Hinata and Kageyama open and close their hands, amazed by the triple feeling from self to partner to Jaeger and back. Hinata’s breathing heavily with excitement, and, incited, Kageyama reaches for the com. “Marshal, Saeko-neesan, everyone—we’re in.” There are cheers in reply, and Hinata whoops in ecstasy.

In a spur of the moment movement, Hinata thrusts their shared fist in the air alongside Kageyama, but that shock ripples down their bond into Omega, and the pilots instinctually know something is wrong. The feeling echoes past their muscles and Omega’s, deeper into the back of their minds. And from there, they can feel a stirring.

“Did you feel th— _AH!_ ” Hinata breaks off with a yell, Kageyama hissing in sympathy.

 **What’s wrong?** Saeko demands over the com. **You’re beginning to slip; you’re falling out!**

“ _Give us a second_ ,” Kageyama grinds out between clenched teeth.

 _So this is why everyone failed_ , they think. Once completing the neural handshake, Kageyama and Hinata had simply assumed that Tyrant Omega’s existence had slipped down to the rest of the Jaeger and would not intrude into their headspace. After all, even though they were sharing minds, he was just a machine, right? However, this overbearing, massive existence that was crushing their minds and halting simple thought could only be that very same presence. _Omega was in their heads._

“He’s gonna kill us!” Hinata snarls.

 _Wait!_ Kageyama shouts at him. _Don’t let go just yet, I think we can manage it!_

“I can’t even think!” Hinata wails.

But there weren’t any malicious feelings coming from Omega. It simply occupied this space with them. Unlike other Jaegers that didn’t even interact with their pilots, Omega was curious by instinct and drawn to his pilots. Where else would he have gone? He was simply taking it all in—the mutual headspace of his human masters, their unfamiliar bodies, his own eyes and limbs _and god that was it!_

“Hinata!” Kageyama shouts. “He’s just doing what any other organism would do—he wants to take control of his body!” Hinata freezes at that, and Kageyama plays the words back in his head. Oh, that did sound bad.

“Not like—not like he’s rejecting us, urgh,” he explains, still suffering from the burden. “He’s just not used to sharing with others, and it feels natural for him to take the lead. We just need to shove him back and assert ourselves!”

Hinata is doubtful, Kageyama knows, but Hinata also knows his theory is sound. They exchange glances, and then, pooling all the mental strength they can, they shove at Omega’s presence, forcing him away from the Conn-Pod and down into his own body. Omega reacts with mild confusion, but shifts, fulfilling his purpose of catering to the pilots’ needs, and the weight thins out. Kageyama and Hinata sigh in relief, and straighten up, having unconsciously curled into themselves at the mental pressure.

Kageyama smacks the com, exhausted, and still having to hold down Omega, whose curiosity had him probing at their minds even after being driven out. “We’ve got everything under control now,” he pants, too tired to bother with honorifics and respectability.

 **Good going, you two.** Nishinoya’s voice is a surprise. **Obviously, something crazy just went down—we can see from these printouts—but we’re going to go ahead and begin the basic functionality and movement tests while the Drift holds, if you’re well enough for it.**

“We can manage,” Hinata replies. “Probably nothing too drastic, but the basics should be fine.”

They do manage, for a little while. Kageyama and Hinata are able to perform the basic movements tests—how do the limbs move, how quick is the connection, how balanced is the Jaeger, are there any kinks that still need to be worked out, are the movements precise enough—simple tests that require very little effort on the pilots part. However, after doing just those, Kageyama and Hinata are dripping with sweat, barely managing to keep their connection stable. It’s one thing to move freely, but another altogether to have to fight for control of every movement, especially when the Jaeger wants to be in charge, too.

The pilots also engage weapons safely, although they won’t test them until the field training begins. Finally, they assess the HUD, gauntlets, and emergency back-up systems before it’s time to try and walk. The mechanics release the locks on Omega’s feet below the pilots, but Hinata and Kageyama are too tired to even observe the process. All they have to do is step out once and then back in, but in the moment they try to lift the Jaeger’s foot, the Drift snaps, and they are thrown out of Omega’s mind, the Jaeger stuttering to a standstill.

Hinata and Kageyama hold onto their own Drift for a moment later, and then that drops too, and they are back in their own bodies. Kageyama’s mind swims; he can’t see straight. He feels himself go limp, collapsing against the back of the command platform, dimly paying attention to the flurry of sound and movement to his left. He’s actually on his way to passing out into blissful darkness when the helmet is yanked from his head.

He closes his eyes tightly and tries to shake the dizziness from his mind, noises becoming clearer. He can feel someone touching his back, fiddling around with his spinal clamp and he wants to say _be careful, you could damage the suit…_ Kageyama’s being lowered then, carefully, and there’s a warm presence flush against him. It takes the realization that the touch is both physical and mental for him to realize it’s Hinata, and he struggles to regain his focus.

“—ageyama. _Kageyama_. There you go, easy does it. Don’t struggle so much, sheesh. You’ve never been tossed headfirst out of the Drift like that before, have you? That’s okay, it’ll all become clearer in a moment, just rest.”

Kageyama gives up the struggle to get out of Hinata’s arms and sinks bonelessly into him, breathing deeply and keeping his eyes closed to steady himself. He rests his head against Hinata’s collarbone, Hinata wrapping his arms around Kageyama to physically stabilize him with his own body. Hinata’s familiar scent and presence serve to reassure Kageyama, and by the time the medical team and Drift techs are opening up the hatch to the Conn-Pod, Kageyama has mostly recovered. He doesn’t move from Hinata, though, even as the staff climb down the ladder and see to both the pilots and the Jaeger. He’s especially loathe to move so that the medical officers can fuss over him, he’s _fine_ , just a little disoriented, and he makes sure to tell them _exactly_ how he feels about being wheeled to the in-base hospital for _falling out of the Drift_.

The medics still regard him skeptically, even after he snaps at them. They turn to Hinata, _of course_ , like Kageyama wasn’t embarrassed enough, as if to ask him if Kageyama was really okay.

“He’s okay,” Hinata saves him. “Really. No bleeding of any kind, and his mind feels fine, so I’m pretty sure it was just a dizzy spell.” The medics relent after that, telling Kageyama that he better show up later today _just in case_ , or else.

“I told them, _I’m fine_ ,” he bitches to Hinata, who raises his eyebrow unsympathetically.

“You looked like you were about to seriously faint in my arms for a second there, _Baka_ geyama,” he replies, amused. “And you’re kind of curled up against me like a baby animal; don’t you think that’s a little unusual? Anyone would be worried.” Kageyama kicks weakly at him out of protest, but doesn’t move away.

Truth be told, Hinata _is_ a little worried. It’s one thing to wake up your partner by climbing on them, or end up wrestling when you spar, but this…Kageyama has shown him so much vulnerability today, Hinata’s a bit overwhelmed. He’s still debating calling back the medical officers to give Kageyama a proper check and face his inevitable wrath later, but then Kageyama shifts, pressing himself closer against Hinata, and he kind of stops thinking. It’s been a weird day for both of them—he can sense Kageyama’s exhaustion and resignation, causing him to rely heavily on his partner. Hinata’s heart has been beating overtime for way too long, anyway, so he stops thinking so hard and calms down, melting into the Ghost Drift with Kageyama.

Koushi darts in as soon as he’s given the all-clear, looking around wildly to see if the newbies are alright. His heart nearly stops when he sees them slumped together in a pile on the floor, but upon closer examination, he can see that Kageyama is breathing lightly, probably asleep against Hinata’s chest. Hinata is staring blankly ahead, but there’s no tension in his body, just calm and stillness. Koushi puts a hand on his heart, relieved. Daichi, who had followed Koushi down immediately once sensing his alarm, rests a hand on his partner’s shoulder.

“We can put it off,” he murmurs, not wanting to disturb the pair. “They’ve had it rough today; even though Noya and Takeda-sensei want this done as soon as possible, the Marshal doesn’t see it as crucial, so we can wait.” Koushi nods.

Daichi walks over to Hinata, touching him on the arm lightly to get his attention. Hinata blinks and looks up, stiffening when he sees Daichi, but Daichi puts a finger to his lips, and Hinata understands.

“When you’re ready, and I really do mean whenever you two are up to it, Nishinoya and Takeda-sensei have some questions they’d like to ask you. I think they’re also going to review the results of today’s Drift. Don’t feel any pressure to hurry—they have all the time in the world, and you two need to stay healthy.” Hinata nods in relief.

“Thank you, Daichi-san,” he whispers, grateful.

The two veterans leave, but right before he turns to climb the ladder, Daichi glances back once more at the newbies. He smiles, and wonders if Hinata knows that he’s rubbing his thumb along Kageyama’s side.

 

\-----------

 

Kageyama sleeps for a little more than half an hour, but true to his nature, he wakes up furious that Hinata allowed him to rest for so long when they had post-Drift debriefings to attend to. Hinata reminds him (loudly) that Daichi had allowed him to rest and arrive whenever was most convenient for them. (“ _Daichi-san_ saw me sleeping?! More importantly, what do you mean when it’s most convenient, we have to go _immediately!_ ”)

Hinata regrets ever thinking that Kageyama could be affectionate and peaceful in his sleep.

He shoves at Kageyama indignantly when they stand up, not really thinking. When Kageyama staggers a bit, Hinata realizes his mistake and is right there at his side, looping one arm around his shoulder and steadying him with his other arm around Kageyama’s back. Kageyama glares at him, but it isn’t particularly vicious, and he can feel Hinata’s immediate regret shiver across the bond. He forgives him with a huff of exasperation.

“This doesn’t really work, you’re too short,” he grumbles.

“’M sorry,” Hinata mumbles, not looking at Kageyama. “This is okay, isn’t it?”

Kageyama sighs. “Yeah. It’s okay.” He straightens up, feeling a little better and clear-headed now, and Hinata insists he climb out first, so that he can keep a close eye on him.

When they’re out of the Conn-Pod, Drift technicians, posted by the hatch by Daichi and Koushi, lead them back to the Drivesuit Room where they can get out of the suits. Tanaka is in the room too. He raises an eyebrow as they enter, and Kageyama is sure he’s going to be mocked, but Tanaka just claps them both on the shoulder and says, “That was some damn good Drifting out there, boys. Even the Marshal was pretty impressed that you managed to hold on as long as you did—everyone else was gone in a matter of minutes. Make sure you stay healthy, you hear? We really need you two now.”

“Tanaka-san…” Hinata says, emotional. Kageyama, too, is floored.

Tanaka waves his hand dismissively. “Don’t go sniffling all over me. Get changed before you tear the drivesuits, already.” His voice is gruff, but there’s a mischievous smile on his face returned by the newbies.

The suit comes off much easier than it is put on, but Hinata shivers anyway. It feels to him like he’s molting, shedding part of his own body. As weird as it sounds, he almost wants to keep the drivesuit on. Of course, once he’s back in comparatively baggy clothes that are soft and smell like him, he feels much more at ease.

“I never knew how great jackets were,” Hinata moans, burying his face in his. Kageyama looks at him like he’s crazy, but he’s not quick enough to conceal his mental agreement.

“Come on,” Tanaka calls to them. “We don’t want to be in the way of these guys, and Yuu wants to speak with you anyway.”

“Noya-san?” Hinata asks, excited, having bonded with the other shorty of their group in a single day.

“Yep,” Tanaka confirms. “And we have to show you around our offices, too. Well, not mine. I run the Shatterdome, you know?” He gives the pair a thumbs up.

 _You say that…but isn’t your sister the one who’s in charge of Mission Control and running the Jaegers…_ Kageyama thinks. Hinata, the simple-minded dumbass he is, just whispers ‘so cool!’ and Kageyama fights back the urge to roll his eyes.

They follow Tanaka down a few floors and across the base to the research science division. It’s quieter on this side of the base. The scientists do take on interns of their own, but most of them are the unsociable type that prefer the company of data models and holographic computers to other human beings. The engineers are on the top floors, the rowdiest of the scientists, arguing over the functionality of one design over another heatedly—even if the difference is by .01%. Below them is the J-Science division, a mix and match of degrees and professions that focus solely around putting the work of all the other departments to good use, either through the Jaegers, kaiju detection systems, or informational reports about predicted locations and frequencies and habits of the kaiju.

At ground level and below are the biologists and K-Science division. Of course, since most of the K-scientists found themselves in high demand and employed by the primary bases, their K-Science department is run by Nishinoya alone, assisted by only one other. Although he wasn’t actually a scientist himself, he was a mathematician, and invaluable not only to their small secondary base, but to bases around the world. Despite many offers to go abroad to primary bases, he had turned them all down, preferring the company of one loud and high-energy man than tens of overly helpful lackeys. His position was truly irreplaceable, so much so that one could say…

“…He’s the ace!” Tanaka announces loudly, once they arrive in the K-Science bay, pointing directly at a scruffy man with his long hair pulled back into a bun. He jumps at Tanaka’s voice, shushing him fruitlessly.

“Ah, Tanaka, please don’t say that so loudly, it’s embarrassing,” the man says with the sound of someone who has given up on trying to calm down his coworkers. Tanaka opens his mouth to retort, but he is cut off.

“That’s not like you, Asahi,” Daichi says, appearing from behind the newbies, who jump at his dark voice. He walks over to Asahi and throws an arm around his shoulder in false-friendliness. Hinata and Kageyama stiffen—they know that look. It’s the calm before the storm. Even Tanaka shrinks back a little.

“What am I going to do if these newbies find out our ace is just a big scaredy-cat?” Daichi asks, fixing his intense gaze on Asahi.

“Ack!” Asahi looks justly terrified by the veteran, and he glances around helplessly, searching for a savior.

Lucky for him, Daichi rarely travels alone. Koushi walks in between Hinata and Kageyama, but unlike Daichi, he has the fluid, comforting presence of a heavenly being. “Come on, Daichi,” he says, a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t be so cruel to Asahi; he’s really trying his hardest. Besides, you’re too harsh on a glass heart like him. He’ll take your words to heart and get all worked up about it.” Koushi is able to pull Daichi off the ace, gently tugging at him, though Daichi leaves him with a final, not-so-gentle punch to the arm.

“Try to inspire the new kids just a little, alright?” he says, following Koushi’s lead.

“Thank you, Suga,” Asahi mumbles, hesitating slightly. “I think?”

There’s something about how Koushi gently chides his partner, hands on his hips, face serious, that really gets to the remaining group. Maybe it’s the way he huffs a little when he’s making a point, or Daichi’s ‘right, right, you’re the boss’, like he can’t take Koushi seriously at all, fondly admitting defeat. Or maybe it’s just Koushi’s bright, forgiving smile—almost like he was never mad in the first place.

“Somehow…” Kageyama growls, looking over at the veterans.

“…I feel a little jealous of Daichi-san,” Hinata finishes with a growl of his own.

“A-anyway,” Tanaka says, calling attention away from the pair. “Let’s actually get you introduced to Asahi-san and show you around the lab. You’ll find yourself coming around here more often than you’d think. It’s kind of a hang-out for our team.”

“Oi! You gross married couple!” He yells at Daichi and Koushi, who only look up in amusement. “Why don’t you go find Yuu, huh? He’s the one who wanted to see these two in the first place!”

“Okay, okay, Tanaka,” Koushi says. “We just wanted to make sure everyone was okay. You two _are_ alright, aren’t you?” he asks, slight concern leaking into his voice.

“Ah…yes, we’re both fine. I was just a little fatigued, is all,” Kageyama explains, bowing shallowly in gratitude. “Hinata took good care of me.”

Koushi and Daichi blink at the praise and exchange glances; everyone else is stunned into silence. Kageyama looks up in confusion. “Did I say something weird…?” he wonders aloud, and Tanaka bursts out laughing.

“All I ever heard from Daichi and Suga was that you two hated each other! That you were at each other’s throats every second of the day! But in reality, you’re pretty cute,” Tanaka chuckles, and Kageyama sputters.

He looks to Hinata for support, but his partner is flushed and staring at him with wide eyes. “Dumbass!” he yelps, finally, at Kageyama’s questioning look. “Kageyama, you’re a real idiot!”

“ _Hah?!_ ” Kageyama snarls, leaning over Hinata intimidatingly. “What the hell did you call me?”

“You’re not quite as scary when you’re blushing,” Daichi adds as he and Koushi take their leave, in search of Nishinoya and most likely Takeda-sensei. “At least _try_ and act like you don’t care about him.”

Tanaka snickers again at the two red-faced newbies, and then pats them on the back placatingly. “Aw, don’t mind us. It’s not every day we get new meat in this junk heap of a base, let us have some fun. Besides,” he grins. “It’s time for the tour.”

Asahi, who had slipped away in the middle of the conversation, reappears when Tanaka calls him, a piece of chalk in his hands. “You called?”

“Introduce yourself already, ace,” Tanaka demands.

Asahi sighs once more at the nickname, but walks up to Hinata and Kageyama. “It’s nice to meet you two. Hinata and Kageyama, right? I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for your Drift…to be honest, Tyrant Omega creeps me out big time. I’d rather not be around him at all if I can help it, I hope you understand.” Hinata and Kageyama don’t really understand, but they nod nonetheless.

“I’m Azumane Asahi, the only mathematician this base has. It’s my job to try and predict the pattern, frequency, and focuses of the kaiju attacks. It’s not easy by any means—but it’s how I can use my unique skills to help everyone.” He offers them a shaky but sincere smile, and the newbies relax a little.

“Asahi-san,” Hinata says, tentative. “You may be a coward, but I can tell that you’re a good person. I’ll make you rely on me and Kageyama, too!”

 _A coward…well, there’s no helping that,_ Asahi thinks. “I’ll do my best,” he replies. “I hope that you will continue to do your best as well. Let me show you around.” Hinata nods furiously, and the newbies follow their seniors around the bay.

Asahi gestures to the left. “On this side of the bay is my office. I keep all my equations, calculations, and models over there. It’s a bit of a mess, but since I’m the only one who can understand what’s written on the paper anyway, it’s not that much of an issue.”

Despite what he says, Hinata thinks the area is rather well-kept. Asahi has three large, sliding chalkboards that take up the entirety of two walls, with a platform ladder that Hinata figures he uses to write on every inch of the chalkboard space. Only one and a half are taken up with writing, and when they pass, Asahi pauses to scribble in a few more variables before moving along. In the center of the room is an assortment of filing cabinets and tables with papers piled high on them. Hinata supposes this is the ‘mess’ Asahi referred to, but each stack is organized into topics. He also has a long line of computers, each appearing to have different functions in preemptive kaiju defense. At the center of the line is a large holographic display like the one he’s seen pictures of in the control room.

Asahi notices Hinata’s interest. “Yeah, that’s a model of what we believe the Breach’s connection to _their_ world is shaped like. You can see how thin the throat is—it’d be really easy to sever, if only we could figure out a way to actually hit the Breach. That’s not really my area, though.”

He leads them to the other side of the room, where a roughly straight line of white paint divides the two. Asahi hesitates in stepping over it, and Kageyama shoots him a look. Asahi wilts a little, and then rubs his head. “I guess I should explain this too,” he relents, and behind him, Tanaka rolls his eyes.

“Well…when I first came here, I only knew Suga—from high school, you know? We kept in touch, and I knew how much he wanted to become a pilot. I supported him fully, although, to be honest, I never thought he’d make it. When I heard he not only had excelled in training, but found himself a co-pilot, I began to worry. I’d already done some work in kaiju prediction theory at my university, even though I never published it, and I already had my first two doctorates, so I applied here. I just wanted to keep an eye on Suga and maybe get a chance to test my theories. I never thought I’d become so important to everyone,” he says, shrugging at the end.

“I finished up my third while I worked here, alongside Takeda-sensei and his scientists. I was kind of like an intern, getting to know the ropes. But once Marshal Ukai found out how valuable I was, he wanted me to be front and center in operations, like Takeda-sensei is. The problem is…” and here, Asahi looks away and scuffs his foot at the painted line. “…I’m deathly afraid of kaiju. Not just the threat of them, but their entire existence eats away at me, even now. There’s no way I could deal with a high-pressure situation like helping on a mission—I work better from the shadows, anyway. The Marshal wanted to know why I put myself in the middle of a situation that raises my anxiety level so much and puts me under tons of stress…I guess I just want to make the most of my life and talents. I could cower and hide beneath my fear, but I wouldn’t be of use to anyone.”

He smiles then, confidence in his expression. “I love what I’m doing in any case, and if I’m better than everyone else at figuring out the patterns and frequency of kaiju, I might as well do that.” His smile falters.

“Well, then the Marshal stuck me down here, since Takeda’s labs were too crowded for the space I needed. This is the only really open science department, so I thought it would be okay.” He groans. “I didn’t realize that I’d be working with a kaiju fanatic who was absolutely fascinated by them and dedicated to not only figuring all their secrets, biological or otherwise, but to creating a kaiju-Jaeger hybrid.”

Asahi taps the line with his foot once more. “Noya had heard about my fear, and when I walked into this bay for the first time, I see him covered from head to toe in kaiju blue, white paint, cleaning product, and kaiju blood and tissue bits. It was horrifying, and I almost walked out then and there. But then he told me, ‘Asahi-san! I cleaned the other side of the bay completely, so there shouldn’t be a scrap of kaiju over there anymore! See this line? I promise I’ll never allow my work to cross to the left side as long as we work together!’ How was I supposed to say no to that? Of course, later, I found kaiju intestine samples in a box he’d forgotten to remove, so there’s that, too.” Asahi looks a little green just thinking about it.

“Noya-san is really pretty awesome,” Hinata concludes. “You don’t have to go over to that side if you don’t want to, Asahi-san,” he adds graciously.

“Aw, come on, Shou-chan, push him out of his comfort zone a little!” Nishinoya arrives with a burst of sound and color, launching himself onto Asahi’s back, laughing. “It’s okay; the ace isn’t scared of a bit of kaiju tongue cell, is he?” Noya gives Asahi a noogie and then releases him, dropping back onto his feet like a cat.

“One day you’ll break my back, Noya,” Asahi mumbles, still a little in shock.

Nishinoya elbows him in the side, radiant and bouncing with energy. “Nah, you’ll always catch me, Asahi, even when you’re an old man. You’d never let me down!”

In the blink of an eye, he’s switched gears, turning to Hinata. “Let me show you all my cool stuff!” He says, waving for Hinata to follow him. Hinata does, eagerly, and they talk expressively over the preserved organs Nishinoya has in human-sized tubes and the half-dissected ones he has splayed across several tables.

“Birds of a feather,” Kageyama mutters to Asahi, who gives him a weak smile. “I have to keep an eye on him at all times or else he’ll go get himself killed.”

“Somehow, the reverse is true for us,” Asahi replies, nodding to Noya. “I don’t know if I’d be the man I am today of Noya wasn’t at my back, watching over me and cheering me on.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re both smitten,” Tanaka breaks in, rolling his eyes. “Can we get on with it?” Asahi and Kageyama follow, protesting (Kageyama) and staring ahead with a dazed expression (Asahi).

Nishinoya is showing Hinata a comparison of kaiju skin tissue from two different specimens and explaining rapid-fire his theory of clone-kaiju rather than individual destroyers. Hinata looks like he might faint from information overload, and Kageyama steps in to save him.

“Noya-san,” he asks. “Aren’t we supposed to be attending a debriefing?”

Nishinoya stops his rant to answer Kageyama’s question. “Ah, yeah, you will be. But not here—up in Take-chan’s lab. That’s where Daichi and Koushi are at, right now. I just wanted to show you around real quick and then bring you up top.” Kageyama nods, and Noya proceeds on with a show of his lab, to Hinata’s relief.

Not only does he have the preservation tubes, Nishinoya has walk in freezers and ammonia chambers to keep all the kaiju parts in prior to dissection and study. He has three work areas, ranging from the literally microscopic, to the typical dissection size, to a massive, kaiju-size table and equipment. Horrifyingly, Marshal Ukai also approved his request to have a toolshed built into his side of the bay, where he keeps his variety of dissection equipment, each more deadly-looking than the rest. However, as Tanaka notes, they’re all shining and spotless due to Noya’s care and cleaning, which is strangely calming to the pilots. Nishinoya has his own archive of paperwork in filing cabinets, but he prefers typing it all in on his computer and storing the information on external hard drives. Whereas Asahi’s technology is state of the art, Nishinoya’s looks like it was pulled out of a dumpster.

“ _Dear god_ , is that Windows Vista?” Kageyama chokes in horror. Nishinoya doesn’t hear him though, and Kageyama decides it’s better not to ask questions. Besides, when that junk heap eventually collapses or blue screens, Asahi-san can help him out, right?

“So that’s the K-Science bay!” Nishinoya concludes, hands on his hips. “Feel free to stop in at any time—we are almost always welcome to visitors. However, if the guts are flying or Asahi is talking to himself, you might want to come back another time.” Asahi makes a retching noise. “Alright, let’s head on up to the J-Science department for the debriefing, ‘kay?” he continues, ignoring Asahi.

“Ossu!” Hinata and Kageyama reply. Tanaka gestures for Nishinoya to lead the way.

“Ah…I think I’ll be staying back this time…” Asahi starts, but is stopped with a sharp look from Nishinoya.

“Asahi, how many times have you avoided going anywhere near our work? Whenever I bring up visiting Take-chan or having you look at my project, you always balk at the suggestion,” he accuses with a slight pout.

Asahi doesn’t have much to say to that, just glances to the side, somewhat ashamed. Nishinoya rolls his eyes, darting behind Asahi, and pushing him forward. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Come on, a field trip and fresh air would do you some good.”

The rest of the group follows while Noya leads an unwilling Asahi along.

 

\------------

 

Takeda-sensei surprises them with warm, fresh coffee when the group enters his lab. Hinata and Tanaka rush to take him up on his offer, but Kageyama approaches slowly, taking in the layout of the lab. It’s not as large as the K-Science department, and it’s much more clean and clinical, unlike Noya and Asahi’s place, which was built right along with the bare walls and pipes and rust of the base. But, Kageyama supposes, this is probably Takeda-sensei’s personal lab (with similar ones on the same floor), and as the main, most important science department, the J-Science labs ought to look nicer anyway.

He takes a mug from Daichi, who is leaning on the back of Koushi’s chair. Everyone else is settling down around Takeda, sitting on a lab table himself. Kageyama mimics Daichi, and moves behind Hinata, who is nursing his coffee with a look of bliss on his face. Nishinoya is engaged in a vibrant and scientifically-worded discussion with Takeda, the only one actually able to keep up with his pace, while Tanaka coaxes Asahi closer to the group with the promise of coffee and no kaiju-related surprises.

“This is _so_ much better than cafeteria coffee or that crappy sludge Kageyama brews,” Hinata sighs in contentment. “Who knew a guy with such a sweet-tooth could tolerate bitter motor oil?”

Kageyama bats him across the head. “That’s rich, coming from you! How much god damn sugar do you put in your coffee, anyway? I swear you sneak entire pocketfuls from the cafeteria every day.”

Hinata clicks his tongue and looks away, but their brief argument brings the focus back to them. Takeda-sensei claps his hands. “Right, we need to talk to you about your Drift.” His face grows serious. “Unlike the other teams in the past, you two could hold on in the Drift with Omega, but from the looks of it, you were suffering. What’s happening in there that’s put so much pressure on the pilots? Do you have any idea?”

“We want to hear everything, no matter how nonsensical or stupid it might sound,” Nishinoya adds. “This is for your benefit, too. There’s no way you can fight a kaiju in Tyrant Omega if you can’t even make him take a step.”

Hinata and Kageyama exchange glances. Hinata bites his lip and stares into his coffee, while Kageyama’s brow crinkles into a thoughtful frown. “It’s…” he starts. “It’s strange to explain, especially if you haven’t Drifted before.”

“That’s what we’re here for,” Koushi breaks in softly. “Daichi and I will try to aid in your explanation the best we can.”

Hinata puts down his cup with a _clink_. “There’s something wrong with the Jaeger,” he says frankly.

Noya and Tanaka lean in. “What d’you mean there’s something wrong with him? Everything’s been tested and should function fine. He’s not broken—we made sure.” Nishinoya insists, looking worried for the first time since he met the pilots.

Hinata shakes his head furiously and winces. “Ah—I didn’t mean like that. It’s just Drifting is…ugh, having never Drifted with a Jaeger before, I don’t have anything to compare it to, but I’m sure it’s not supposed to be like that. I guess—I guess I expected to feel something neutral or maybe even somewhat inviting…Omega isn’t like that at all.”

He turns to Kageyama and touches his hand, the memory of Tyrant Omega’s wrong presence hitting him alongside their choking, cloying fear. Kageyama wrenches away with a hiss from the unwelcome thought, and Hinata’s apology vibrates across the bond. The scientists are staring at them, somewhat shocked; surely, they know of the Ghost Drift, but Kageyama guesses Suga-san and Daichi-san never bothered to tell them that they had it as well.

He sighs, long and irritated. “I get it, already, idiot. I’ll explain it as well as I understand.” He looks pointedly at Takeda and Nishinoya. “Saeko-neechan told us that Omega doesn’t have a consciousness, nor can he initiate the Drift. Do you concur with this?”

Nishinoya blinks and, looking slightly uncomfortable, nods, glancing at Takeda-sensei. “Of course. Jaegers are machines, after all. The presence you feel is artificial.”

Kageyama sighs again. “Then I’m afraid I’m going to have to disagree with you this time, Noya-san. It may sound crazy, but when we Drifted with Omega, he was definitely aware of us. I can’t prove it to you, nor can I really explain it. But Hinata will agree with me when I say that he was _not_ just a machine. True, he didn’t touch us, but he _tried to_ —tried to reach for our mind.”

Takeda and Nishinoya are silent, taking Kageyama’s words in. “But that’s impossible,” Asahi breaks in hesitantly. “Are you saying that he _consciously_ felt you two and went after you?”

“We aren’t trying to belittle you here,” Daichi says. “We’re just trying to understand exactly what went down. Asahi’s right; a Jaeger is not a human, and it can’t want to Drift with you. As the pilot, you control the Jaeger, not the other way around.”

“And I’m not refuting that,” Kageyama argues. “He didn’t touch us to Drift, like I said, he was just…curious. Argh, I don’t know how to sound not like a crazy person.” He scowls helplessly.

Hinata looks thoughtful. “Hmm…I guess it’s kind of like Omega was a third Drift partner?”

Everyone turns to stare at him, and Hinata waves his hands spastically. “S-sorry! I’m just thinking out loud!”

Kageyama nods slowly. “Actually, that’s pretty accurate. Once we initiated the neural handshake, we were okay for a while, until he became aware of the Drift. It was like having a particularly irritating and overbearing Drift partner. The two of us were barely able to keep him from invading our minds completely. He’s just far bigger and stronger than us.” Asahi flinches a little at Kageyama’s words.

“But that’s not—” Noya starts. “He shouldn’t be able to do anything like that.”

Takeda-sensei speaks for the first time since the pilots began their explanation. “Okay. I’m willing to accept the notion that Omega is semi-conscious.” Everyone stares at him in surprise.

“You are?” Hinata and Tanaka wonder aloud.

“He’s not 100% machine, after all. Furthermore, I don’t think we really have any option except to believe that we’ve unintentionally given him this consciousness. What other explanation do we have? If you think of this situation from the point of view of a strong third Drift partner, the logic is sound,” he explains.

“I’m sure the reality of the event is a lot less strange and difficult to believe than Hinata or Kageyama can explain. But that’s not what I’m concerned about.” He turns to Hinata. “What did you mean about Omega feeling ‘wrong’?”

Hinata chews his lip. “Well…it’s not anything that’s based in logic or fact. It’s more of an instinct—a knee-jerk reaction, if you will—that we got when we first encountered Omega’s presence. I’ve never felt such terror and horror in my life.” Hinata shudders. “It’s not like anything happened to us. He was just there. And yet…I sincerely wanted to run away, to throw out the Drift, just to get away from him. If Kageyama hadn’t been with me, I would have surely fallen out of sync immediately.”

“It’s the same for me,” Kageyama concurs. “Just the thought of facing that presence again makes me want to quit piloting.” He mutters the last part.

Takeda-sensei and Nishinoya exchange extremely anxious glances. It’s only for a moment, but Koushi catches it, and frowns.

“For now,” Takeda starts. “For now I think you two should just try to feel out Omega, understand him. Try and get his presence under control, if you can. Otherwise, there’s no way you’ll be able to pilot him. I’m sure Nishinoya-kun and I will be busy trying to figure out what’s going on with him in the meantime. Tanaka-kun, too.”

“But rest up for today,” Daichi adds. “Saeko’s got to analyze the results anyway. You’re due for some relaxation. If you go to train, don’t so anything too reckless. Alright, you’re dismissed, if the scientists have nothing else to add?”

The two shake their heads, and Tanaka hops up. “Well, I’m going to check the nerve cable connections, just in case. Rest assured, next time we try a Drift, any errors will _not_ be from the engineering or mechanical standpoint.” He leaves the room, Nishinoya following soon after, calling Takeda-sensei to his side.

Daichi leads the two newbie pilots out, too, shooting Koushi a curious glance when he doesn’t follow. Koushi waves him out with reassurance across their Drift. Asahi, who is spacing out a little, chewing his thumb nail, still hasn’t moved.

“Asahi,” Koushi calls, and the mathematician jumps at his serious tone of voice.

“Y-Yeah?” Koushi’s eyes are sharp but distant—he’s thinking pretty deeply about something.

“Can you come with me for a bit? You’re the closest to Noya, and I have a few questions…”

 

\---------------------------

 

With the Marshal’s permission, and Saeko’s supervision, Hinata and Kageyama continue to Drift.

They improve over the course of a month, becoming more and more used to Tyrant Omega’s heaviness in the back of their minds. It doesn’t actually get easier by any means—but Omega only pushes at them in waves, so Hinata and Kageyama develop a give-and-take with him. They are able to move and complete tasks or tests when Omega does not feel for him, but once he presses against their mind, they halt in what they’re doing and push him back. It’s a pretty ineffective way to run a Jaeger, but they’re able to get him walking and moving, although not to the full extent Noya had hoped for with their close connection.

Tanaka hadn’t discovered any problems in the mechanics of the Jaeger, even after weeks of pouring over every single detail of his anatomy with Nishinoya at his side. They’ve poked and tested and reconnected every nerve cable thrice over, but no amount of tweaking has lessened Omega’s pressure on his pilots. Noya and Takeda-sensei work around the clock to try and fix the problem, but they keep turning up empty-handed.

(Asahi can’t even count the number of times he’s found Noya asleep at his desk, curled on top of papers and keyboards. All the samples and simulations in the world haven’t been able to remove the frown lines from his face, even in sleep.)

(All of this makes Asahi distressed, too.)

Takeda even took it up with Marshal Ukai, explaining the situation and asking him if he’d ever encountered or heard of anything like Omega’s situation. The Marshal could only shrug and say he’d never heard of anything like Omega before, and yet here they were. Saeko was gung-ho about overseeing continuous Drift attempts, at least. She could train the new techs in the basics and help the veterans brush up, but she hated answering their questions about Omega with an apologetic smile and a “sorry, that’s classified”.

Kageyama, always calm and clear-headed when it was most crucial, suffered especially because of Omega’s constant meddling. Letting Hinata in so regularly was tiring enough for him, but having to deal with a force that made him lose complete control of himself was even more exhausting. He couldn’t be at the top of his game when Tyrant Omega was pressing in on his mind, and in a battle with a kaiju, a single second of weakness could mean certain death.

At least Hinata stayed positive for the most part. He had always had a powerful sense of determination, and it didn’t falter now. Tyrant Omega’s difficulty was just another obstacle to overcome to him; he didn’t think it over very hard, he simply pushed himself and hoped for the best. He combatted Kageyama’s pessimism with pure willpower when they Drifted together. Kageyama found that he came to appreciate Hinata more than ever before—he surely would have failed without Hinata to keep him on track.

But of course, even that ball of energy had his off days. They had managed to actually get Tyrant Omega up to a run in the training bay without tripping up or getting shoved out one day, and to be honest, the pilots were flying high. Pushing their luck, Hinata suggested that they run back, and Kageyama had agreed wholeheartedly, riding the adrenaline rush. It was a naïve mistake; even Saeko-neechan had advised against it.

Omega surged up against them mid-stride, and the neural handshake dropped so fast Kageyama felt the whiplash. Then, to top it all off, they were thrown against their restraints as Omega toppled over. It was bruisingly painful and Kageyama felt a headache flare up almost as soon as they stopped. He nearly whimpered, holding back from Hinata so that he wouldn’t be hit twice as hard with a migraine, but Hinata surprised him with an expression of his own anguish.

“ _God dammit!_ ” Hinata snarled, loud and ferocious, slamming his arm against their control panel. Frustration and pain rolled off him in waves and Kageyama had to physically shrink back from his partner, hunched over and teeth clenched. “This is bullshit,” Hinata snarls again, lower this time, trailing off in misery and defeat.

For once in his life, Kageyama really had no idea what to say or do to Hinata. He wanted to comfort him, but the entirety of Hinata’s demeanor screamed _back off_. Kageyama clenched and unclenched his hands restlessly, but he remained silent as the rescue teams on standby removed them from the Conn-Pod and transported Tyrant Omega back to his hangar. That night, Hinata didn’t even eat—he just went straight to their quarters and huddled in the corner of his bed, blasting music. The image might have been funny—Hinata as a pouting teen—but Kageyama only felt an ache of sympathy towards his partner every time his head pounded.

He left a few tablets of ibuprofen and a glass of water on Hinata’s sidetable as a peace offering. Kageyama only meant to be in and out, so as not to disturb him (Hinata’s head was buried in his knees, face invisible with the hood of his sweatshirt pulled over the mess of orange hair), but he was stopped when Hinata’s arm shot out, grabbing him. Kageyama paused, and Hinata tugged on him. He didn’t say anything, but Kageyama understood well enough.

He climbed onto the bed, pulling his knees to his chest like Hinata, and leaned against him. They didn’t talk after that, just rested in each other’s presence. Eventually, Kageyama grabbed the medicine and water and nudged Hinata until he looked up.

“Take it,” Kageyama muttered. “It doesn’t help much, but it’s better than nothing.” Hinata eyed the tablets in his hand doubtfully, but swallowed them anyway.

Kageyama didn’t hear the _thank you_ , but he felt it, and for them, that was good enough. Hinata took off his headphones, putting them to the side, and leaned into Kageyama’s shoulder. They were both just so tired—Kageyama didn’t feel like it was necessary to shove Hinata away, this time. He let his partner fall asleep on him, until the soft sounds of deep breathing and the small patch of drool on his shoulder told him that Hinata was out for good. Kageyama sighed and shifted one arm behind Hinata’s back, shuffling him down into a proper sleeping position. Kageyama might have grumbled about it, but he draped his jacket over Hinata anyway, muttering something like ‘don’t lie on the sheets next time, idiot, you’ll catch a cold’.

The next day, nothing was said about the incident, but Hinata was shining brighter, confidence and spirit returned. Kageyama made him breakfast automatically, not even really thinking as he set the lid on the rice cooker and flipped the fish. Hinata kicked his legs under the table, looking like a little kid, and Kageyama raised his eyebrow at him. “Cut it out, you. You’re in your twenties for god’s sake, act like it.”

“Why’re you being so nice, anyway?” Hinata asks with a frown, ignoring Kageyama’s complaints. “Ever since we Drifted that first time, you’ve started treating me like a real partner.”

Kageyama hisses as some of the oil in the pan splatters onto his hand. He spins around, glaring at Hinata, who flinches. He opens his mouth to make a retort, finds he has no explanation for his actions, and closes it. “Should I not be treating you well?” he asks instead, turning back around to finish the rice.

“That’s not what I meant,” Hinata sighs, but doesn’t explain further. Kageyama puts their breakfast on plates in silence. He gives Hinata the bigger one, silently cursing himself for proving that yes, he was looking after Hinata more often. He doesn’t quite have the heart to switch their plates, though.

Hinata tears into his breakfast with a rushed “thanks for the food!” while Kageyama picks at his. Something’s up, he just can’t put his finger on it. It’s not until he sees the sleeve of Hinata’s jacket slipping down into the rice and his rush to adjust it that it clicks.

“Y-you!” he accuses, pointing at Hinata, who looks up questioningly, fork still in his mouth. “You’re wearing my jacket!”

Hinata squints at him and grabs the fork. “Yeah, so? You’re one who left it on me in the first place. I’ll wash it later, don’t worry about it.”

Kageyama stares at him as Hinata goes back to his food, but the pink on his cheeks tells Kageyama that he understands the implications of what he’s done—he just can’t be bothered to right it. Kageyama feels about ten degrees hotter the rest of the morning and he can’t stop looking at Hinata—how loosely his jacket fits on Hinata’s shoulders, how the sleeves run down to cover the base on his fingers, and the way Hinata fiddles with the zipper absentmindedly. Hinata comes up beside him, rolling the sleeves up and offering to do dishes, not even bothering to take it off.

Kageyama rolls his eyes. “I’m not going to take it from you if you put it down,” he says, hiding embarrassment with annoyance. Hinata unconsciously curls further in to the jacket. Kageyama considers chewing him out, but then Hinata tentatively reaches for his hand.

 _It’s comforting_ , he says across the thought-connection _. I feel safer knowing you’re around_. _I can’t handle Omega on my own_. It must sting his pride, because Kageyama feels the slightest hint of disgust at himself from Hinata.

 _I’m here_ , Kageyama replies. _I’m not going anywhere_.

_I know, but—_

“I get it,” Kageyama says aloud. He felt it in the spark of possessiveness from Hinata. The Ghost Drift was good, connecting them like this, but it still wasn’t very strong and not at all tangible. To have something warm and familiar smelling… “I understand,” Kageyama says, quieter.

He leaves Hinata to the dishes and gets changed. When he comes out after brushing his teeth, Hinata is ready to go as well, a tentative smile on his face. “This is the day,” he says, as he always does, before they leave to pilot Tyrant Omega. Kageyama nods.

Hinata opens the door, and unfortunately, smacks Yamaguchi in the process. He yelps and leaps back, rubbing his arm and glaring at Hinata who stutters out an apology. Kageyama follows him out just in time to see Tsukishima appear from behind Yamaguchi. The two regard each other distastefully before Tsukishima sighs. “I guess I should have expected this, but honestly, I’m disappointed.”

“Hah?” Hinata growls, looking up at Tsukishima.

He shrugs, looking the newbie pilots over with mock despair. “Really, I think we all expected more from you two. A month and you still can’t pilot that Jaeger? And you keep blaming it on the machine, tch.”

Hinata’s eyes narrow. “Shut the hell up, you haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about.”

Yamaguchi bristles. “You shouldn’t be talking to Tsukki like that. Say what you want about your own situation, but we put out results. What have you contributed to this base besides causing trouble for Daichi-san and everyone else?”

“It couldn’t be that the king is the problem, could it?” Tsukishima adds, venom in his voice. “It’s just the shrimp. Why aren’t you gone yet? Although apparently you’re only compatible with him, king, so we might as well get rid of you, too.”

Hinata grits his teeth, but Kageyama steadies him with a hand. He meets Tsukishima’s glare. “What the fuck are you so bitter over, huh? We’re head and shoulders over the other candidate pilots in terms of ability and control over the Jaeger. What’s got you so riled up if we’re doing better than everyone else?”

Tsukishima’s mocking smile falls, a true sneer replacing it. He steps into Kageyama’s space, their partners ducking behind them. “What’s my problem?” he asks, a powerful undercurrent of anger in his voice. Hinata gulps.

“My problem is that _you’re_ the supposed miracle team to pilot the Jaeger. You two, specifically. A useless near-dropout and a selfish bastard who doesn’t care for his partner in the Drift. The Marshal wants you running flank with me and Yamaguchi, but I don’t think you’re trustworthy at all. How can I entrust you with the lives of the main team and the civilians if you can’t even trust your partner, the most intimate person in your life? You’ll have some minor disagreement or something fucking stupid like that, you’ll drop out of the Drift, and leave Strike and AA to fight off a Category Four all on our own. You’re gonna get us killed.”

“I’m not that way anymore,” Kageyama replies, bold and honest. “Before, yes, but I’m not like that anymore. I won’t jeopardize the mission or my co-pilot’s life for anything.”

“Prove it,” Tsukishima snarls. “You can’t, can you? You still can’t pilot a Jaeger, _your one job_ , and regardless of the excuses you make, you know that your bond is to blame. People don’t change that easily. Just what the hell have you been doing with your time?”

He glares at Hinata, too, who does his best to look fierce, peering from behind Kageyama’s back. Tsukishima pauses, looking closer with narrowed eyes. He takes in the oversized jacket, the name _Kageyama Tobio_ emblazoned on it, and his eyes widen.

“Hey, asshole,” Kageyama growls, shoving Tsukishima back and directly his attention away from Hinata. “I’m over here. He’s not any of your concern. You don’t even know the first thing about what we’ve been doing to Drift with that Jaeger.”

“Oh, I think I know,” Tsukishima breaks in, a knowing look on his face. “I know exactly what you’ve been doing. He’s standing right in front of me.”

Kageyama and Hinata pause at that, the realization hitting Kageyama much faster than Hinata as he remembers the jacket. Kageyama’s face contorts from mild anger to real fury and he snarls wordlessly. Tsukishima raises an eyebrow in disbelief. “Now, I could be wrong, but I’m pretty sure _saving humanity_ is more important than _fucking your boyfriend_.”

Hinata’s eyes widen as it hits him, too, hands fisting subconsciously in Kageyama’s jacket. “No, that’s not—” he starts, distressed. He’s not embarrassed or disgusted, Kageyama feels, he’s worried—worried that these two fuckers will spread a rumor around that they’ve been wasting their time instead of working to pilot their Jaeger successfully. One thought rings clear at the front of Hinata’s mind: _don’t take Omega away from me!_

Kageyama smashes Tsukishima into the wall with a roar, hand fisted in his shirt. Tsukishima winces in pain, trying to push him away, but Kageyama is fiercely strong, a rage born from protective anger and pride. He brings back his fist, ready to punch the goddamn lights out of the pilot, but right as he’s about to swing, a piercing alarm goes off. The pilots’ eyes widen.

A kaiju has broken the surface in the area under their authority. That alarm was a summoning of all personnel essential to anti-kaiju and Jaeger prep procedures to their respective stations.

Hinata and Kageyama clamp their hands over their ears instinctively, but Yamaguchi only winces and Tsukishima straightens up. He brushes off his jacket and regards the two coolly. Kageyama stands in front of Hinata, blatantly this time. Tsukishima shrugs.

“Whatever. It’s time for the _actually useful_ teams to get to work. Hit the gyms or sit and twiddle your thumbs, either way, it doesn’t matter—we’ll be the ones to get the important business done.” He moves to brush past Kageyama, but Kageyama stops him, looking him straight in the eyes.

“Don’t _ever_ insult Hinata again, or make any implications that he has not devoted his mind and body completely to becoming a pilot. I understand your issue with me, and that’s fine, but _he_ is _off limits_.”

Tsukishima rolls his eyes and shoves past Kageyama, Yamaguchi darting after him with wide eyes. “Whatever you say, king. You’re the boss,” he calls over his shoulder.

When they’re out of sight, Kageyama spins around and takes Hinata by the shoulders. Hinata grasps at his arms, too, looking afraid. “Kageyama, they won’t—they wouldn’t do something like that, even terrible people like them? They would _never_ —”

Kageyama shakes his head swiftly. “No, no. Tsukishima just wanted to get a rise out of us as usual. I’m sorry, I rose to the bait. He would never spread a vicious rumor like that, though. He’s a dick, but he doesn’t lie and gossip.”

Hinata’s shaking a little. Even though the alarm is still blaring, Kageyama can hear his exhale of relief. “We’re so close…if someone took Omega away…”

Kageyama shushes him, understanding. It wasn’t against regulation for personnel or pilots to have relations within the base—discouraged, of course, but most pilots ended up as life partners anyway, and everyone was risking their lives, so denying them the simpler pleasures of life was pointless. That alone wouldn’t get them decommissioned, but if there was some suspicion that the two newbies were slacking off or causing problems to earn themselves more time together…that was another story.

“Even if they did tell anybody that,” Kageyama murmurs. “Noya-san and Saeko-neechan and everyone know how hard we’ve worked. They know we’d never jeopardize the safety of millions of people for a carnal relationship. They know us.”

Hinata nods, finally, heart rate steadying. “Yes, you’re right, of course.” He pulls away from Kageyama, waving his hand as if warding away his reaction. “I’m sorry, just in that moment—”

“Oi! Just what do you two think you’re doing?”

Tanaka’s voice booms down the hall and the newbie pilots jump. He jogs up to them, an excited smile on his face. “What’s up, Tanaka-san?” Hinata asks.

“What’s up? Well, you two better suit up real quick. Marshal Ukai wants you two to observe a real kaiju-Jaeger battle, see the real conditions in Tyrant Omega. That’ll be you, soon enough, right?” Tanaka laughs.

Hinata and Kageyama exchange glances. That’s right. No matter what Tsukishima threatened, they were pilots, and the people that really mattered knew how hard they were trying. They look to Tanaka and nod, following him at a run to the Shatterdome to get suited up.

When they’re in the Drivesuit Room, Tanaka briefs them on the pre-mission details, scrolling down a tablet. “Alrighty, so it’s a Category Three, codenamed Boulderfin. It’s pretty small for a kaiju of that category, but from what we can tell, it has an extremely thick skin and it’s heavily spiked. Shouldn’t be too much of an issue for Apocalypto Alpha and Gold Strike; they’ve dealt with worse. Since you’re both on observation, you won’t interfere in the battle unless things become dire. Stay close to the shore, but keep your weapons warmed up, just in case.”

“Sir!” The pilots respond, their Jaeger techs attaching the spinal clamp to their backs as the final piece of the suit. Almost immediately, Tanaka is hustling them to Tyrant Omega, grumbling about how the other two have already started up and are ready for transport.

As they walk the bridge to their Conn-Pod, Hinata bumps Kageyama’s side. He looks down at his partner, who is looking off to the side a little, red in the face. “Um,” he starts. “About back there…” Kageyama blinks when Hinata struggles with the words.

“I…You…You’re not unattractive!” he blurts out finally. Kageyama is floored.

“What the hell?” he sputters. “Why all of a sudden…?”

“Because!” Hinata yelps, on a roll now. “Before, I panicked when that Tsukishima jerk implied that we slept together. A-and, I thought you might’ve been offended that I’d react that way, so…you’re not really unattractive. I just wanted to make sure you knew that’s not why!”

Kageyama’s brain fizzles and he puts a hand on his head. “I cannot have this conversation right now. Ever, actually. Please don’t talk anymore.”

“No, I’m serious!” Hinata presses. “One day, a really pretty girl is gonna totally fall hard for you, you know? You can be really handsome when you’re not scowling…although that’s kind of your default expression…but if you’re a Jaeger pilot you’ll be famous, too!”

Kageyama groans and shoves at Hinata’s face. “Get in the Conn-Pod and shut up,” he pleads. Hinata shrugs at that and climbs down the ladder. Kageyama follows after steadying himself internally and promising himself that the conversation never really happened.

The Jaeger techs secure him and Hinata in position, and then they’re all business, pre-Drift checks volleying across the Conn-Pod, even before the techs have sealed the hatch. By the time Saeko summons them, they’re completely ready to go. The neural handshake goes as well as it always does (not very), and then they’re cleared for transport. The cargo helicopters drop super-fiber cables and the mechanics attach them to Omega’s exterior. Hinata and Kageyama are in the air in a matter of minutes.

“Impressive,” Hinata murmurs, wincing as Omega pulses against them.

Even more impressive is the combat bay the Jaegers call home. It’s their arena and their turf, scattered with the remains of the bones and kaiju bits that weren’t snatched up by Nishinoya or the black market scavengers. From the Conn-Pod, Hinata and Kageyama can see the shimmering metal of their two fellow teams, like islands in the ocean. The helicopters deposit them safely away from the action and they are left to observe the battle.

True to Tanaka’s word, the kaiju Boulderfin is not that large. He has a rounded face and rhinoceros-like skin, a thick body more suited for crushing than for speed, and heavy spikes on his head and joints. Unfortunately for him, it’s a poor match up, as Gold Strike was designed solely with speed in mind. He breaks the surface, charging for Apocalypto Alpha, the bait, immediately and falls into their trap. AA moves backwards, drawing the kaiju away from the direction of civilization, while Strike sneaks up behind him. In an impressive show of speed, Strike rushes Boulderfin with his plasma cannons firing simultaneously. He doesn’t come within ramming distance, just unloads the clip into the kaiju.

Boulderfin roars at the deception, turning on Gold Strike, reloading his cannons. The kaiju’s skin is very thick, for sure, but with another few good shots, his delicate insides will be exposed. He charges at the Jaeger, but he’s no match for Strike, who hits the same spots with deadly accuracy. Boulderfin is forced to a crawl, kaiju blue pouring from his chest and side, but still living.

Apocalypto Alpha steps in at that moment, knocking the kaiju on its side and drawing her sword. With one brutal finishing strike, she drives her sword into the weakness in the kaiju’s body, piercing him straight through. On Tyrant Omega’s HUD, the kaiju signature disappears, and there’s cheering over the com.

 **This is Apocalypto Alpha. Kaiju eliminated,** Koushi’s voice says. **I think that’s a new record. Ah, and good work as always, Gold Strike. Thank you for paving the way.**

 **Roger that** , Tsukishima’s voice grumbles, boredom and neutrality plain in his tone.

 **Good job, boys,** Saeko chirps across the com. **All three of you can return to your designated transport stations now.**

 **Three of us?** Tsukishima’s voice is muffled, like he’s pulled away from the com, but still audible. **I didn’t even notice…**

Irritation, amplified by their earlier encounter, ripples between Kageyama and Hinata. Those guys just didn’t know when to quit it, did they? Hinata opens his mouth to say something, half-tempted to throw a ‘fuck you’ over the com, but resists. He takes a deep breath to calm himself, and that’s when he feels the anomaly.

It’s Omega. The presence, which had usually pressured them, was neutral. Kageyama picks up on his attention, and they turn inside to observe the third member of their team. Omega is…alarmed? There’s something tense and anxious in the stirrings of the Jaeger’s ‘mind’.

 _It has to be our unity in irritation…_ Kageyama suggests. _He’s responding to our hatred of Tsukishima._ More important than that to Hinata is the release of pressure from their minds. Omega isn’t applying weight to their minds at all; he’s situated in the no man’s zone of the Drift, alongside Hinata and Kageyama. In this perfect moment, they are three equals. Is this what Takeda-sensei meant by understanding Tyrant Omega?

“C’mon,” Kageyama says. “No matter what he’s doing, we better get our asses over to transport while he’s playing nice.” Hinata agrees, and they walk to their designated area, meeting up with the other two Jaegers in the process.

Apocalypto Alpha is the farthest over, but unfortunately, Omega is in the middle, meaning they’ll have to cross paths with Gold Strike. The newbie pilots decide just to let Tsukishima and Yamaguchi walk in front of them in order to avoid conflict. However, Strike, the fastest Jaeger in the base, is moving at a snail’s pace in a way that can only be intentional.

“ _Mocking_ us?” Hinata hisses, flame in his heart rekindled.

“Bastards,” Kageyama agrees. “Fine, we’ll just go.”

Of course, once they go to move again, Strike puts on speed, closing the gap between them. Kageyama and Hinata see red, pushing Omega to move faster, to duel against Strike’s speed. Gold Strike should be able to outpace them easily, especially with Omega being difficult, but the Jaeger has a different idea in mind, apparently.

The presence stirs to action with the pilots’ fury, and to their surprise, they can feel Omega willingly press its presence into its limbs, urging them to move faster. To Kageyama, it feels like a warm body shielding them and laying atop them, weightless but certain. When they push the Jaeger again, Omega responds in perfect synchronization.

They jolt in front of Strike, before he can reach them, and stop dead in his path, forcing him to put on his brakes. Tensing, Omega braces himself for impact, and then shoots diagonal, making sure to clip Gold Strike in passing, a horrible sound of grating metal at the contact. Omega appears fine, as Hinata and Kageyama walk easily to their transport station, but they can see a long scratch in Strike’s paint from their horns. There’s a deep sense of satisfaction between the three existences, and Hinata and Kageyama don’t think too hard about the fact that Omega was somehow able to derive _pleasure_ from picking a fight with Gold Strike.

The take what they can get in the perfect moments of control they have before their Jaeger acts up again and knocks them to the floor.

 

\---------------------------------

 

As per usual, after the pilots are changed out of their drivesuits, there’s a small party in the mess hall.

Every time that the pilots return safely, with their Jaegers mostly intact, the base provides champagne and some special finger foods in celebration. It’s not much, but it’s a way not only to thank the pilots and Jaeger staff for their hard work, but to bring everyone closer with some merriment and socialization. The room bursts into applause when the two active teams arrive, Daichi and Koushi taking the attention well with slight bows and smiles, while Tsukishima and Yamaguchi skulk by, trying to avoid making eye contact with anyone. It’s the same way when the assembled party toast to the success of the pilots.

Tsukishima drifts away from the crowd as soon as he can, probably headed for a darker corner. Yamaguchi follows, accepting any praise sent his or his copilot’s way with humble bows and a blush. Daichi, of course, is charismatic and sociable with anyone who will approach him, giving off the vibe of a reliable leader; while on the other hand, Koushi’s beauty and gentle demeanor earn him attention from the shyer people. Kageyama and Hinata aren’t particularly envious of them—after all, it’s not like they really did anything—and they sip on their champagne, quietly observing the proceedings.

In the middle of it all, Tanaka and Nishinoya have cornered a few unsuspecting Jaeger techs that are still new to the base and are bombarding them with what Kageyama imagines is information about their research and bragging about their jobs. (Noya does step aside to rescue a frightened Asahi from a few of his less intimidated fans, waving them off with a _let the man enjoy a moment of peace, would’ya? Come by the K-Science department later if you wanna pester him!_ )

Marshal Ukai swirls his glass contemplatively, looking stoic as ever, as Saeko shows him a few readouts on her tablet. Even Michimiya has showed up, bounding excitedly to Saeko’s side and making herself welcome in the discussion, although the Marshal doesn’t seem to mind. Kageyama is a bit surprised that Takeda-sensei isn’t with that party, since he seemed to be on good terms with the Marshal.

“Kageyama-kun, Hinata-kun. May I speak to you in private a moment?” _Speak of the devil._ Kageyama starts a little at the seriousness in Takeda-sensei’s tone, and when he turns, he’s shocked to see Tsukishima at his side. Tsukishima is glaring holes through their heads and Yamaguchi isn’t at his back. Kageyama feels dread sink into his gut. This can’t be good.

Hinata makes as if to argue, a frown on his face, but Takeda raises a hand. “Please. This is a rather important issue I’d prefer to settle immediately.”

Kageyama knows what’s happening, even before Takeda pulls the three of them aside and Noya appears beside him, face dark. Hinata’s confusion bubbles out in his nervous tic; he taps a frantic rhythm on his leg almost unconsciously.

Takeda-sensei crosses his arms, and it’s apparent they’re about to be scolded. He sighs. “Look, I understand that you two don’t get along well with Tsukishima-kun and Yamaguchi-kun. We’d prefer if you did, but as long as you’re reliable in the field and can keep personal matters out of it, everything is fine. However, that little stunt you pulled out there is unacceptable. You could have seriously damaged both of your Jaegers. What were you thinking?”

Kageyama dips his head, chastised, but Hinata looks thoughtful. “Thinking? Well it was kind of spur of the moment, I guess. Strike was being an ass and we were pretty pissed off.” Takeda-sensei presses a hand to his forehead, tired, and Noya takes over.

“Okay, I’ll leave that stuff to Takeda, I have more important questions,” Nishinoya bursts. “Your acceleration…your top speed…how did you manage that? You two have never managed to get Omega up to that speed before, and even though he was designed to be fast, there’s no way he could outpace Gold Strike.”

“I’d like to know how, too,” Tsukishima growls.

Kageyama looks up and tilts his head to the side. “I don’t know? We just wanted to beat Gold Strike, so Tyrant Omega responded. That last bit, though, I don’t know where that came from. We never really intended to directly confront Strike.”

Nishinoya shakes his head. “What do you mean Omega ‘responded’? You said earlier that he has a consciousness, but he _can’t_ act or feel anything.”

Hinata looks supremely confused. “What are you talking about? Didn’t Takeda-sensei say that Tyrant Omega was supposed to evolve to suit our needs?” he glances at Kageyama. “He did, didn’t he?” Kageyama nods.

Takeda looks between them, also confused. “I meant that he has evolved as a Jaeger since he’s a hybrid, and that we have hopes the kaiju DNA might make him tougher after repeated battles, but…but what do you mean ‘evolve to suit your needs’?”

Kageyama scratches his head. “It’s hard to explain. We were pissed at Tsukishima and then _he_ got all worked up about it, and then when we got really mad he just kind of…made the Jaeger move faster? In a way? The three of us were working in harmony for once. I thought he was supposed to actually evolve as we battled enemies—is that not the case?”

“Enemies?” Tsukishima narrows his eyes. “Your Jaeger views Gold Strike as the equivalent of a kaiju?”

Kageyama returns the glare. “Stop twisting my words. You know exactly what I meant.” They turn back to the scientists, but they aren’t looking at the pilots.

Takeda-sensei and Nishinoya look more concerned than any of the pilots have ever seen them. “B-but…that’s not how it was designed! _You_ told me it was only supposed to replicate the function, not be an _exact copy_ ,” Takeda is saying, voice shrill.

“And it’s not!” Noya snaps. “It’s all artificial—synthetic. Like hell I would mess with using a real one! I may play with fire, but I’m not actually an imbecile.”

“What are you talking about?” Hinata breaks in, confused.

“Something they shouldn’t be talking so loud about in a public place, I’m sure.”

The five whip their heads around to see Koushi, leaning against the wall and fixing Nishinoya and Takeda with a cold look. “You sure you really want to talk about _that_ where anyone could walk by and hear it?”

Nishinoya licks his lips nervously. “Suga, I don’t know what you’ve heard, but you can’t possibly understand—”

“Spare me your denials, Nishinoya,” Koushi commands, sounding so like Daichi that they all straighten up. “The two of you have been keeping secrets, and it’s about time you tell everyone the truth. Don’t patronize me—I know Asahi wouldn’t lie about something like that, especially if he was worried about you.”

Noya slumps, defeated the moment Koushi said ‘Asahi’. He exhales through his nose. “Asahi, oh Asahi, why did you tell him? Everything was under control…”

“I highly doubt that,” Koushi snips. “Now get your asses to Takeda’s lab—pilots and scientists are holding a meeting.”

 

\----------------

 

The second time Kageyama and Hinata arrive in Takeda-sensei’s lab, the atmosphere isn’t welcoming at all. At least, Hinata supposes, it appears that the scientists are in bigger trouble than them, although he’s very concerned about Tyrant Omega. There’s something wrong with him for sure—not just in his consciousness but his design, that much is clear. Hinata bites his lip. Will they take Omega away from them? He tugs on Kageyama’s shirt, his partner turning quickly to him, responding to his anxiety.

“Are you okay?” Kageyama murmurs low, the tension in the group of pilots and researchers making him drop his voice to just above a whisper.

Hinata nods on instinct, then shakes his head slowly instead. “No, I’m not, really,” he says softly. “I’m worried about Omega. How could they not know about him responding to us? What the hell has gone so wrong that Takeda-sensei and Noya-san look like they’re walking to their hanging?” Indeed, the two leading the group look especially miserable. Clearly, Koushi finding out about _that_ was never something that had crossed their minds.

They settle into sitting positions around Takeda and Nishinoya, staring expectantly at the two. Koushi and Daichi look stern and dominant over the group, while Yamaguchi and Tsukishima exchange puzzled glances. Asahi is at the veteran pilots’ side, chewing the inside of his cheek and refusing to look Nishinoya in the eyes. Tanaka is nervously drifting between pilots and scientists, obviously knowledgeable about what’s happened, but not sure if he’s in trouble too.

“Now that we’re all here,” Daichi begins. “Would you two mind telling everyone exactly why Tyrant Omega has been such a piece of work? And why things haven’t exactly been going according to plan?” Takeda-sensei jumps, but Nishinoya just rubs his head and stands up to explain.

“Alright, so Daichi and Koushi are right—we haven’t told you everything about Tyrant Omega,” he starts. “We know exactly why he’s so difficult to Drift with, but all these side effects that Shouyou and Tobio are experiencing—those weren’t part of the plan.”

He hesitates. “When I designed Tyrant Omega, the idea I had in mind was a kaiju that could be controlled and improved by humans. That’s why the Jaeger parts of him are only there to support and control him. However…using muscles and nerves and the goddamn nerve fiber drivesuits requires a level of control and connectivity that the current neural Jaeger systems couldn’t supply. The choice was to design my own, or…or use one that already worked.”

Noya bites his lip and meets the newbie pilots’ confused gazes. “Tyrant Omega uses an artificial kaiju brain rather than hardware and cables to control it.”

“ _What_ ,” Tsukishima hisses. “ _What the hell do you mean a ‘kaiju brain’?_ ”

Hinata and Kageyama, on the other hand, are stunned into silence. Kageyama’s mind is racing to process this information, but all he can do is accept it as the truth. It makes sense, of course, now that they see the big picture. The darkness and unnatural feeling of Tyrant Omega—since they were essentially _Drifting with a kaiju_ , they were bound to feel overwhelming fear. No wonder other teams could manage it. And his desire to take control if his body—the natural response of an organism. Omega was an _organism_. Kageyama wants to throw up a little bit.

Nishinoya straightens to his full height and lifts his chin up, proud. “I know it sounds bad. That’s why we never told anyone. Who would Drift with a Jaeger with a kaiju’s brain if they knew? But it’s not the real thing, just a copy, created from scratch. It may function like the kaiju’s do, but Omega’s brain is devoid of any natural inclination to kill humanity or to destroy civilization. Essentially, I’ve taken the kaiju’s purpose from him, and left him an amnesiac.”

“The hivemind,” Hinata whispers, fearful. “The kaiju are of a hivemind, what about—”

Takeda-sensei breaks in, waving his arms. “No, no, no—Omega isn’t connected to the hivemind at all. Since the kaiju brain is synthetic, it has never been connected with the other kaiju. It only functions like a brain; it’s not like we pulled a brain from a dead kaiju and stuffed it in Omega. That would be _extremely_ dangerous.”

“And yet, it still went after our Jaeger,” Tsukishima growls. “How do you know it’s not some killer instinct built into the very DNA of the kaiju? We could all be put into danger if those two pilot Tyrant Omega and it tries to kill us instead of the kaiju.”

“That’s what I’m concerned about, too,” Koushi admits with a sigh. “I know you meant well, Noya, but how do we know he won’t go berserk?”

“It’s impossible,” Nishinoya replies. “He can’t take control of the Jaeger.”

“But we’ve said that before…” Tanaka murmurs, face pinched into a frown.

Nishinoya shakes his head furiously. “No, you don’t understand! I never expected that he’d actually be able to improve and evolve based on what he’s facing, but it’s absolutely impossible for him to take full control of the Jaeger. He’s not even active until the pilots Drift with him, and even then, if he tries to overpower them, they’ll just be thrown out of the Drift.” The two main teams give him doubtful looks.

“Noya-san’s right,” Hinata says in a small voice. Everyone turns to look at him.

Hinata stares them down confidently. “Kageyama and I didn’t know that he was alive. Well, alive-ish. We’ve been pushing him away for so long because we thought that’s what we had to do. But today, when we took on Gold Strike, Omega was with us. We were angry, and he felt that. He _wanted_ to help us. Even at the end—there was almost a pleased feeling to his mind that was echoed in ours. He’s not trying to hurt anyone; he just wants to aid the pilots. You may not have known all this would happen, Noya-san, but you’ve programmed his mind to take orders from us, to bond with us.”

“Omega knows us,” Kageyama says. “The Drift gets better every day because he recognizes us, even just a little. I can’t describe it, but we’ve become a team. If Hinata and I could trust him a little, truly bond, the three of us would have no trouble in a battle.”

Daichi and Koushi regard them thoughtfully. “Well, in any case,” Daichi says. “We’re going to have to leave the decision of whether or not to continue with this project to the Marshal and Saeko. Nishinoya, Takeda, and Tanaka will provide a _full_ report, including Hinata and Kageyama’s observations, and then we will go from there.” He glares at the scientists, as if daring them to keep anymore secrets.

“Yes sir,” they reply meekly.

“You’re all dismissed,” Daichi sighs. “Suga and I have some reporters to deal with and cover-ups to create. Today was the debut of Tyrant Omega in the eyes of the public and the media’s cameras, after all.”

They skulk out, obviously not thrilled to do this job. Asahi follows, glancing once more at Nishinoya, who gives him a mollifying smile. His lab partner was only trying to do what was best, after all. Asahi has to look away a moment later, hurrying after the veteran pilots, but the feeling between the occupants of the K-Science bay has relaxed back to normal.

The rest of the group heads out soon after, going their separate ways. Hinata rushes Kageyama out, attempting to avoid the pilots of Gold Strike and yet another unpleasant encounter. Without thinking, they both head in the direction of the Shatterdome. Kageyama doesn’t realize how automatic their reaction was until just before they turn to walk through the doors. He slaps himself in the face, shocking Hinata. As if noticing for the first time, Hinata looks around and drags a hand down his own face when he realizes where they are.

“Of course we’d end up here,” he mutters.

The Shatterdome is pretty quiet. A few mechanics and technicians have wandered back in after the party, but since they won’t be seeing another kaiju for at least a few days and there’s been no real damage done, there’s no real rush to get back to work. Only the faintest echoes of tools and a few scattered shouts break the silence in the Shatterdome. It’s peaceful—not that Hinata and Kageyama don’t feel completely at home with the hustle and bustle of the hangar at full capacity—but this kind of calm settles deep in the pilots. Hinata leads the way to Tyrant Omega, Kageyama on his heels.

They take the lift to the top of Omega’s standby bay, eyelevel with the Conn-Pod of their Jaeger. Kageyama settles down, spread out and leaning back against a large pole supporting the metal catwalk. Hinata sits beside him, and together they look over their Jaeger. Omega looks frighteningly fierce with the knowledge that he’s got the brain of a kaiju beneath his already unnatural exterior. But still…he belongs to them.

“That’s why the Conn-Pod is so far forward,” Kageyama murmurs. Hinata gives him a curious look. Kageyama gestures at Omega’s head. “Noya-san had to make room for his brain. Knowing him, he probably included the secondary brain, too.”

“How much you wanna bet his mouth is functional?” Hinata replies, only half-joking.

They stay like that, resting together and observing their Jaeger calmly, for the rest of the day. After the events of seeing an actual kaiju battle, so close to the action, the newbies are pretty worn out. Hinata’s eyes flutter open and closed in exhaustion, and his body feels heavy. He scoots closer to Kageyama, who allows it with only the slightest wavering along their link. The amplification of their tiredness serves to lull the two to sleep, Hinata resting his head on Kageyama’s shoulder and Kageyama on his head, in front of their Jaeger, completing their team.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from [**Captiva**](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yPw8m4eXQfE) by Falling Up
> 
> thoughts? criticisms? holy fuck ryan your chapters are too long? tell me about it!
> 
> speaking of lengthy chapters, i'm moving my updates to every three weeks...sorry....but i'm almost out of back up and i'd like to keep updates as regular as possible. the chapter lengths just keep growing out of control too, gomen (23,000 words with this one!!). on the plus side, there's content for days in each chapter??


	5. to the heights, there is hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *eyes rating change with interest* so uh
> 
> baby's first nsfw anything, please be kind ;w;
> 
> ALSO something i forgot to add originally, but there's definitely going to be some saeko/yui in my fic because i ship 'em hard in this universe :D i hope you guys are down for genius scientist lesbians~
> 
> deds today go FIRST AND FOREMOST to my precious, A M A Z I NG beta, [**blusocket**](http://blusocket.tumblr.com/)!! honestly, this chap flows so much nicer because ze edited all 68 pages of this and made it sound like i actually have mastery of the english language, ha.
> 
> also to **[westerbroski](http://westerbroski.tumblr.com)** for **[THE SCENE I LOVED THE MOST](http://westerbroski.tumblr.com/post/97682078378)** and **[crowsofficial](http://crowsofficial.tumblr.com/)** for their **[lovely](http://crowsofficial.tumblr.com/post/96252693701/) [kagehinas~](http://crowsofficial.tumblr.com/post/97195853546/)**

The sound of the sea has always been calming to Koushi. He figures plenty of people find the crashing of waves and the occasional cry of a gull soothing—god knows people use it as a sleep aid—but it’s a little different for him.

For Koushi, the sounds of the waves should be intermingled with the smack of sturdy shoes on old dock wood, the hollered greetings from fisherman to fisherman, and the varied yells of their crew. Instead of the gulls, he hears the low blast of boat horns as the vessels enter the harbor. He’s lived in an oceanside village his entire life; the base has been his only home away from home. The crash of water on rocks can make him forget where he is, sometimes, if he closes his eyes and leans his head back, just a little. Like this, he can feel the salty-cool breeze brush along his neck and ruffle his hair. It takes him back to a simpler time—one when the world didn’t depend on him to keep it afloat.

“Out here again?”

True, the roof of the base is a safe haven to him, the bars of the balcony an anchor that helps him retain memory of his history—but that’s not all. He’s not alone here. He didn’t come to this place for nothing. Koushi leans back, hanging on the bars. He tilts his head to the side and regards Daichi’s dark profile with a smile. It’s a smile that always came naturally to him in the past, every one as genuine as the last. Koushi’s a calm and generally chipper person by his very nature, but there’s that _something_ about Daichi that makes him just a little bit more playful, a little bit happier that he’s alive.

“I just wanted to talk to Mom and Dad, is all,” he replies easily, glancing back at the ocean.

Daichi takes up his place next to Koushi, folding his arms over the balcony and leaning over to peer at the rocks. “Yikes,” he says. “I hope you weren’t leaning too far over.” Koushi shakes his head, pulling himself up and mimicking Daichi’s position.

“So,” Daichi says after a long pause. “What’d they have to say?”

Koushi grins. “Mom told me to eat my vegetables. Dad said that you better make an honest man of me if we’re going to adopt those kids.” Daichi laughs aloud and his eyes crinkle in the corners. Koushi’s heart skips a beat, but that’s nothing new.

Daichi shivers a little at the wind as it picks up. “Don’t you ever get cold? You spend hours up here sometimes; I worry you’ll catch your death. It’s chilly!”

Koushi shrugs. “I’m used to it. Our village used to be like this all the time. I’d rather not forget the wind chill.”

His partner slings an arm over his shoulder, pulling Koushi closer to him. “Yeah, but you’re still cold. I can feel it.” He presses the back of his hand to Koushi’s cheek, and Koushi’s smile twitches.

“I don’t mind,” he says softly, meeting Daichi’s eyes. There’s a beat of harmony between them, both physical and mental.

“Like hell you do,” Daichi murmurs, breaking it and fluffing Koushi’s hair affectionately. “You better not get sick and leave me to deal with those kids, especially now that they’re regaining their confidence.”

Koushi nods. “That would be cruel of me, wouldn’t it? But I’d still rather have this than the alternative. God knows they’d be crushed if the Marshal didn’t allow them to keep Drifting. They really do love Omega, you know.”

“I know,” Daichi says, shaking his head. “If you ask me, Marshal Ukai is taking this matter a little too lightly. Nishinoya and Takeda-sensei have really outdone themselves—I can still hardly believe it. He didn’t even flinch! Just raised an eyebrow, drilled them for any dangers they knew of, and then let it slide. Even Saeko was more apprehensive.”

“Hmmm…it’s not like there’s really another choice, is there?” Koushi muses. “He’s already invested so muchin this project. We won’t be putting Hinata and Kageyama anywhere near the front line though, that’s for sure. I was the one who recommended double the usual drill training. I want them fully in synch with their Jaeger and ready for anything when the time comes.”

“Ah, it was you? Good call. I trulydo want to trust them to have our backs, but…” Daichi sighs. His tension and anxiety concerning the more alien element of Tyrant Omega drifts across their bond. Koushi returns a quiet confidence and pride in the newbie Rangers. Daichi is forced to crack a smile.

 _What would I do without you, Suga?_ The thought-speak is light and relieved; Koushi knows he’s done his job.

 _You’d be in a hell of a mess, that’s for sure_.

Daichi laughs lightly. “Well, at least those two idiots just keep getting better and better. I swear, this new development has somehow actually _facilitated_ their growth.”

“That wouldn’t surprise me at all. The oddball duo is the very definition of ‘unpredictable’. Yui told me they were doing some movement tests for the first time this week. How’d it go?” Koushi asks.

“Ah, right, that’s what I came to talk to you about. Saeko finally decided to let them do something other than endless synch tests, like they’ve been doing for the past few weeks. Apparently the whole idea of accepting and trying to unify with Omega has worked out well for them. They flew through the movement tests and passed with flying colors,” Daichi says, a touch of disbelief in his voice. “They’ve got their usual crazy synchronization, but Saeko said that they’ve managed to achieve very close to that same sync with Omega, too.”

“Oh, so Noya and Tanaka installed the new sync reader? I thought kaiju brain scans wouldn’t be very similar to humans, but I guess that’s not true…” Koushi muses.

“They’re different alright,” Daichi agrees. “That’s why it gave Noya hell to calibrate the thing. He needed to pull Tanaka in to convert Omega’s brain scans into something compatible with Saeko’s pilot sync readers. They’ve been pulling their hair out over this for quite a while—er,figuratively in Tanaka’s case, of course.

“If you want, we can head over to the ‘Dome and see them. They’re running a few final checks before the group drill we’re doing tomorrow. I’m sure they’d be happy to see us,” Daichi suggests. Koushi hums in response.

“You go ahead; I’ll catch up in a bit,” he decides finally. “I do want to see them—god knows they’ve been fighting to prove themselves, especially over the past month or so—but…” Koushi’s eyes drift back out to the water.

Daichi bumps his shoulder, quiet understanding flooding Koushi’s side of the Ghost Drift. He feels it down to his fingers and toes, warming him even in the nippy outdoor air. He meets Daichi’s eyes and shoots him a grateful smile. He truly does not deserve such a perfect partner.

“Get inside before those clouds roll in, you hear? I’ve only got one of you; it’d be a bummer if you got carried away in a thunderstorm,” Daichi says, flicking Koushi gently on the forehead. Koushi scrunches his face in response and Daichi grins. He turns and walks away with another word, a slight shiver running down his arms. Koushi watches him go.

Once he’s alone again, Koushi turns back to the ocean and the darkening grey out across the horizon line. He’s not nearly dumb enough to get caught up in a storm, but Daichi’s right—he’s going to have to go back inside pretty soon. Well, better make it quick then.

“Hi Mom, Hi Dad,” he murmurs into the water. “That was just Daichi again. He’s doing a great job of looking after me in your wake, so don’t you two fret.” Koushi smiles into his arms, crossed over the railing. “I’m really lucky—I know, I say that every time—but I’m really lucky to have someone like Daichi. I miss you…but I’m glad I came here. The water doesn’t sound the same, but the people are still warm; you just need to find the right ones.”

Koushi stays out there a while longer, just as long as it takes him to forget the brush of Daichi’s mind against his. It’s not neediness, like he used to think it was, this desire for connection—it’s instinct, pure and simple. Koushi hopes that Kageyama and Hinata find solace in the bond between pilots, a gift given only to those who turn their backs on a life of frightened prayer and accept the life of sworn service to their species until the day they die.

He stretches his mind out, drawing to Daichi like a magnet. His partner’s location acquired, Koushi jogs back inside, smiling at the feeling of Daichi slowing his pace to allow for him to catch up.

 

\----------------------

 

 **Alright, looks like you’re all set for movement tests today, guys. How do you feel? Not too worn down, right?** Saeko’s voice is carefree across the com, like she already knows the answer. To be fair, she isn’t wrong.

Kageyama and Hinata relax in sync, rolling their shoulders and flexing their fingers. Hinata taps the com. “Yep, we’re good to goanother round;Omega all set for another straight Drift.” He shoots a look at Kageyama for confirmation, but Kageyama’s already nodding.

“Before our team drills it’s probably a good idea,” he murmurs. “Make sure _he’s_ not going to get up to any trouble.”

Hinata nods sharply in agreement. “We’re ready when you are, Saeko-neechan. Under for half an hour should do us well enough.”

 **Roger that,** she replies, and Hinata leans back. He’s smiling, as he has been this entire week, as soon as Marshal Ukai mentioned ‘group drills’. It’s common knowledge that running a scenario with the point and flank is the last step before joining in on a real mission. Hinata’s vibrant and ready—and now that Omega is playing nice, they should be able to prove themselves. Kageyama pokes at him through their communal mind, and Hinata, wound up, jolts.

 _You wanna get ready, newbie?_ Kageyama rolls his eyes. _You can get excited all you want, but we do have a job to do before the drills._ Hinata can’t even work up the will to be mad at him. He closes his eyes obediently, readying himself for the straight Drift.

Unlike the test Drift or union with a team’s Jaeger, the straight Drift was an old technique used back when the Mark I and II Jaegers were around, at the very beginning of the war. Those models had all been finicky pieces of work, Drift sync readings fluctuating up and down for no apparent reason. The old Jaegers had been slower and less accurate—the idea of using precision-based weapons completely laughable. With a thinly tied Drift between the pilots and an even weaker bond to their Jaeger, the combat ability of the human race had been significantly impeded.

However, a team of Jaeger technicians came together and tossed the idea that if two pilots spent some time under, within the Drift, feeling out and strengthening the bond, then maybe it would hold steadier. A far-fetched idea—but in those days Jaeger pilots were thrown into their Jaeger and out into the battlefield without any of the sync and movement tests required nowadays. Sure enough, pilots that ‘straight Drifted’ as it was called, involving nothing other than focusing on mind-to-mind communication, improved exponentially on the field. Straight Drifting became a common practice until techs and engineers were able to come up with a design that promoted the Drift and steadied it, rendering straight Drifting unnecessary.

Where Kageyama and Hinata were concerned, however, this technique was invaluable. Saeko had suggested it almost immediately once the Marshal allowed them to continue with the project. She had high hopes that fostering a strong mental bond between the ‘three’ would keep them from slipping out of alignment and rein in Omega’s overpowering tendencies. She’d had them straight Drifting every day, at least twice a day, since then.

The results…well, to Saeko and to the pilots, the results showed an overwhelming improvement in human to Jaeger communication and maneuverability.

Saeko kicks the neural handshake, and Hinata is back there in the empty space of Tyrant Omega’s not-mind. The bridge beckons him across, practically lit with floodlights, showing him the way to go. Around him, Kageyama stirs excitedly, impatient as ever. They move with confidence to Omega, crossing the bridge to the dormant mind of their machine. The hesitation is nearly unnoticeable now; when Kageyama and Hinata reach for Omega, pushing deep past the swirling mists of his consciousness, they intertwine without a second thought, any lingering fear pushed far from their minds.

Hinata lives for the shift.

When he is one with Kageyama, he can feel the coiled strength in his partner’s muscles, the sharp whip of his skill and instincts—he can feel every beat of Kageyama’s heart as if it were his own. They share the burden and the spoils of the unity, both livening each other up to pilot and dragging each other down when the weight of control and synchronization became too unbearable. It’s different when Hinata Drifts with Omega.

Their first, abysmal failures could only scratch the surface of what it meant to truly Drift with Tyrant Omega. Hinata surges from the neural handshake, not with the feeling of being weighed down, but with the feeling of _being_ the weight. There’s a thickness and power thrumming through his arms and legs, every breath feels like he’s drawing all the oxygen from the air into massive lungs. He’s clever and primal—an edge only accentuated by Omega’s inhuman presence. Kageyama within him, too, feels ferocious and deadly; he is a valuable ally. Omega makes Hinata feel _alive_.

They may be straight Drifting, but that doesn’t mean Hinata and Kageyama aren’t itching to move. They shrug their shoulders and shift in place a little, fidgeting until Saeko or one of her underlings snap at them to hold still and concentrate. It’s probably the kaiju blood running through Tyrant Omega’s veins—synthetic or not—but an almost animal-like focus and intensity bleeds into the pilots’ minds when they are hooked into their Jaeger. Hungry to move, hungry to fight…Hinata can’t put his finger on what exactly it feels like, but it’s an itch beneath his skin, driving him to go.

Hinata and Kageyama hadn’t been all that thrilled to jump back into Omega once they found out just how much of him really was alien. Part of it was fear, another part was the overwhelming obstacle of actually controlling the thing, but the pilots had been gifted with a tenacity not so commonly found among recruits to the Jaeger Program. They didn’t give up. They _wouldn’t_ give up.

And that tenacity was all they needed. Accepting Tyrant Omega, stepping back and letting him access their minds had been the hard part. He was pushy in the sense that he wanted to spread out to his full extent, elongate his consciousness as far as it would stretch. The pilots had expected to feel invaded and crushed, forced to squirm unpleasantly in their own minds. Omega, as usual, was full of surprises.

His presence didn’t smother them as much as it matched the shape of their minds and melded to them. When at ease, his consciousness barely brushed theirs, and when the pilots sought to move, it stretched with them, moving Omega’s limbs with the ease of his built-in knowledge of how to do so. Living up to the purpose Nishinoya had subconsciously given him, Tyrant Omega catered to the pilots every whim, asking only in return to be let in to the entirety of the pilots’ psyches.

The unity between the three had grown with every Drift, to the point where Omega could now recognize them. It’s small—the comprehension—but it’s there. The Jaeger matches with them in the Drift faster and faster, evolving uniquely to fit in with the pair. Even now, just floating and Drifting, the hum and feather-light brush of the Jaeger’s ‘mind’ seems to be more of a companionable silence than of anything ominous or threatening.

Saeko pulls them out earlier than expected. Kageyama makes it to the com first, eyebrows scrunched together in worry, wondering if they’d done something wrong. Saeko had only replied with a heartfelt laugh.

 **Oh my god, Kageyama, quite the opposite,** she says once she gets a breath in. **Honestly, just looking at the readouts, you three are holding your flawless sync with little to no blips; I don’t really think it’s going to get better than this. I’m clearing you guys for drills tomorrow right now. Yui-chan and I have adate with all this data and you bet it’s gonna feature heavy drinking. Incredible,** she mutters at the end, moving away from her mic.

Kageyama raises an eyebrow at Hinata as Saeko severs their connection gradually, leaving them to slowly retreat back into their own minds. Hinata can only shrug, a grin plastered across his face. He’s not going to read too into it too much—they got cleared didn’t they? And it’s not like Tyrant Omega had been acting up at all.

Hinata practically wiggles free of the command platform, to the vocal displeasure of the Drift technicians hissing at him to _hold still, it will take so much longer like this, honestly_. Kageyama is actually out before Hinata, clapping a hand on his shoulder to keep him from bouncing on his heels, energy brimming from him across their lingering bond. “Steady,” Kageyama murmurs. And Hinata obeys.

They make it back to the Drivesuit Room without incident and begin to change out, even if Kageyama has found it increasingly difficult to look anywhere but directly ahead of him while they’re stripped of their suits. It’s not that he’s embarrassed, really, he’s done this too many times for modesty to be an issue. The problem is how intimate the procedure is—for Hinata, mostly.

He didn’t really mean to look over at his co-pilot while they were changing; it’s simply a habit of his to tell Hinata exactly what he’s thinking as he thinks it, without a filter, no matter their current situation. He’d been thinking about Omega’s glove-like fit over their communal mind and he wanted Hinata’s opinion. A simple enough question, but for some reason it flew out of his head when he looked over at Hinata, mouth already open to bark at his partner.

Logically, he knew nothing out of the ordinary was happening. The Drift techs in charge of taking care of their drivesuits were just unfastening the back of his suit, the same way another group was unfastening Kageyama’s. Unfortunately, logic didn’t seem to have bearing in the tiny cube of space that was the Drivesuit Room because Kageyama could feel the blood flooding up his neck and burning his ears. He was entranced.

It was almost voyeuristic, watching the techs peel the suit back from Hinata’s thin shoulders, displaying the strong lines of his back. Kageyama knew he shouldn’t be surprised—after all, Hinata could match him in strength and speed, he had to be in top condition, but it wasn’t really something Kageyama tended to notice. Until it was shoved in front of his face, of course.

Hinata shifted, trying to aid his helpers, and Kageyama had a thought of such stunning clarity he nearly jumped out of his skin. Hands, removing the skin of black material to reveal the paler, softer second layer, brushing past the fringe of orange at the base of Hinata’s neck almost subconsciously. No—not just any hands, _his_ hands, Hinata peering back at him, a slight pout and his eyebrows pulled together, shifting under Kageyama’s hands, _hurry up already Bakageyama, I’m not very patient, you know—_

Kageyama physically wrenched himself from his train of thought, heart racing and mind spinning. He stiffened, struggling to get his brain back online and away from _that_ , whatever _that_ was, as fast as possible.

“Kageyama-san?” one of the techs had prompted him, looking concerned.

“’M fine,” Kageyama replies too quickly, forcing his body to loosen up.

It didn’t really work. He may have been able to erase the stray line of thought from his immediate consciousness, but Hinata’s very existence continued to plague him while they changed. Every time someone touched Hinata, or made to help him out of the drivesuit, Kageyama’s muscles tensed and his teeth snapped together. The possessiveness was foreign and felt low in his gut, rising to his heart with a flare of blind anger at every single Drift tech on the other side of the room. Hinata didn’t mention a thing about how strange he had been acting once they left, although Kageyama was certain he had projected across the Ghost Drift.

So he made an effort not to look around anymore. When he’s not looking at Hinata he can be calm, focus on just getting out of his drivesuit and on to the next task. No side thoughts about Hinata’s bare skin. No thoughts about tearing off the limbs of the people who touched him, either. Kageyama is able to go through the removal procedures with little difficulty, padding to the small locker room off to the side of the room where the two dump their clothes.

Hinata races past him. Kageyama stutters in his step and growls at Hinata, who only laughs, pleased that he was able to cut Kageyama off. The mess of orange hair disappears around the corner and Kageyama rolls his eyes. He’d rather not run around like an imbecile in his boxers—he still had his dignity.

They change together, back facing back. Hinata’s already decorated his locker with trash from energy bars and milk cartons, along with some pictures of the base. Tyrant Omega features in many of them, as well as Nishinoya and Tanaka, mostly ridiculous selfies that Kageyama scoffs at. There’s also the stray photo of the other pilots—even Tsukishima and Yamaguchi—and a single one, right in the middle, of them. It’s not one they took together on purpose, but a snapshot Koushi took of them one day. They’re both leaning over a desk, peering at a holographic projection of Omega, looking incredibly invested in the image, not even noticing the photographer.

Hinata’s head is tucked neatly under Kageyama’s chin, and he can only vaguely remember why he had allowed such a thing. He’s pointing at the blueprint, a calm look in his eyes, while Hinata uses both hands to gesticulate at something else. The picture leaves Kageyama with a weird feeling in his stomach. He asked Hinata about it once, and Hinata said that it was the only photo he could find of them working together. Kageyama had to grudgingly agree that they looked like real partners, having a civil discussion like that. Koushi was good.

Kageyama shakes his head, reaching for his jacket. Only, itisn’t in his locker. He frowns and peers at the surrounding area, looking. He’s sure no one took it—god knows this Drivesuit Room is way off limits to normal staff—but it really is nowhere to be found. He turns to Hinata, who has already pulled on his own jacket.

“Oi, Hinata. You seen my jacket anywhere?”

Hinata blinks. “No…did you misplace it? That’s pretty careless of you.”

Kageyama glares at him, but Hinata has turned his back and is effectively ignoring Kageyama. He closes his locker, turning on his heel to walk out of the room stiffly, pulling up his sleeves.

Kageyama might not have been the brightest in the base, but he wasn’t a complete idiot. “Hinata, you bastard!” he snarls, taking off after Hinata, who broke into a run at the first shouted word. “Get back here, you thieving bastard!”

“No way!” Hinata calls, jogging backwards down the hallway. “You’ll murder me!”

“I sure as hell will!” Kageyama replies, but he’s only revealing exasperation across the bond and not homicidal urges, so Hinata allows him to catch up. Kageyama cuffs him soundly across the head. “Why do you always take my stuff?” he grumbles.

Hinata rubs the back of his head with a grimace and pouts. “Does it really matter? Yours is warmer than mine.”

"What the hell is that supposed to mean, it's a jacket..." Kageyama starts, shaking his head. He looks down at Hinata and stutters in his step _yet again._  
  
Hinata has the collar of Kageyama's jacket flipped up and his neck scrunched down so that the collar is nearly covering his ears. Hinata's ears themselves are pink, and so are his cheeks. _It's like before; the first time he did this._  
  
Kageyama pokes at their bond and Hinata responds with a warm and safe feeling that Kageyama can't quite put into words. There's also soul-deep satisfaction in wearing Kageyama's clothes that Kageyama doesn't really understand, especially after the fiasco with Tsukishima.  
  
"I don't get you," Kageyama concludes. "This is bound to make our lives more difficult." But he doesn't do anything to stop it happening.  
  
"You think I understand, either?" Hinata sounds vaguely frustrated. Kageyama blinks at him in surprise.  
  
Hinata ducks his head and looks away, a beat of silence between them. Kageyama refuses to accept Hinata's quietness and knocks his shoulder gently. "Talk to me, moron. All I'm getting is confusion and frustration."  
  
"We have to stay close, right? We're Rangers now—or we will be, soon," Hinata says suddenly, snapping from his withdrawn demeanor back to his typical, exuberant self. Kageyama is still suspicious of that quiet struggle, but says nothing, only raises an eyebrow.  
  
"Besides...it smells good, too," Hinata adds, thoughtful. "Oh, I have to go meet up with Nishinoya today, so I won't be training with you, Kageyama. Later!" Hinata takes off without another word, sprinting as fast as he can down the hall.  
  
He needn't worry about Kageyama pursuing, though. His partner was floored by his additional remark. _His jacket smelled nice?_ It wasn't like he had washed it much since Hinata stole it from him the first time. Kageyama knew familiar scents could be comforting, but to hear that so directly, and from Hinata at that...  
  
He puts his head down and walks as quickly as he can back to their room, hoping and hoping that he didn't stumble upon someone he knew. He was overwhelmed enough as it was; like he needed someone to see him flushed from head to toe, too.  
  
\---------------

 

The next day, the three teams are ready to run a full set of drills.

Once again, Hinata wakes Kageyama by pouncing on him, although this time, Kageyama just kicks out at him in irritation, shoving him from the bed. Hinata hits the floor, winded, but Kageyama doesn’t allow him time to complain. “If you’re so full of energy, go make us breakfast, idiot,” he grumbles, pulling the covers over his head with a sigh. It’s not that he’s not excited for the drills— _of course_ he is, just this ‘test’ and they can be inaugurated as Rangers—but he’d like to get in the right kind of serious mindset in order to perform to the best of his ability. He can hear Hinata climb to his feet, loudly babbling about how Kageyama was ‘such a giant jerk’ and ‘the worst partner ever, jeez’ and ‘I don’t even know where you put the rice cooker; you cooked last’. Kageyama thinks that he’ll figure it out just fine.

Sure enough, they get through breakfast without any major incidents (Kageyama has to wrestle his jacket from Hinata’s grip, but Hinata doesn’t put up too much of a fight, pouting). They’re dressed in the Ranger uniforms Koushi had given them for when they went out for anything official, standing tall and proud—well, as tall as Hinata can stand, anyway. Kageyama clucks his tongue and walks up to Hinata, fidgeting with his uniform in front of a mirror. Kageyama tucks in a stray edge of his shirt, Hinata yipping at his touch. He spins around, glaring with red cheeks, but Kageyama can only roll his eyes.

“Come on, you moron. We don’t want to be late to our first three-team drill session.” He leads the way out of their room,unconsciously picking up his pace when he heads towards the Shatterdome. It’s almost time. (Hinata yells at him to slow down, damn tall person, but one challenge from Kageyama later, and it has turned into an all-out sprint to the hangar.)

They arrive out of breath, panting as they walk through the doors. Waiting for them in the middle of the hubbub that is typical of the Shatterdome are their senior officers. Daichi and Koushi spot them immediately and flag them down. The rest of the group is composed of Marshal Ukai in full uniform, looking particularly frightening, Takeda-sensei in his usual lab coat, and Saeko, dressed smart and fixing the newbie pilots with a wicked smile. Nishinoya and Tanaka are nowhere to be found, but that’s unsurprising—Kageyama is sure they are fussing over Tyrant Omega down to the last second.

“Nice of you four to show up,” Daichi calls.

“Four?” Hinata mutters in confusion, but then Tsukishima and Yamaguchi brush past the two roughly. Kageyama meets the glance Tsukishima tosses over his shoulder with a hard stare, making every effort to convey his hatred. Tsukishima raises an eyebrow and turns away, humming to himself. Kageyama and Hinata reluctantly join the group, still shooting the other pair dirty looks.

“Cadets,” the Marshal addresses Hinata and Kageyama formally. They straighten up automatically and snap to attention. “I’m sure you already know this, but today’s drills are the last step in the completion of the Jaeger Program. If Tanaka and I deem you successful, you will become fully-fledged Rangers, earn your badges, and be granted official recognition as Jaeger pilots of this base. You will also be required to assist Apocalypto Alpha in the field effective immediately. It goes without saying, but…don’t screw this up.” The newbies gulp nervously.

Ukai stares them down for another moment before he cracks a smile. “Well, if you screw up, it’s not like you won’t have another chance to prove yourselves. Take this seriously, but don’t let the pressure get to your heads—it’s not exactly do or die. Anyway. In recognition of your accomplishments thus far, we’ve prepared a bit of a surprise for you. Follow me.” The Marshal turns without another word, striding towards the Jaegers.

The rest of the group trails behind, while Kageyama and Hinata nervously stick close to the Marshal and Takeda, who is alternating between smiling at them and Ukai. Kageyama and Hinata exchange glances, but they don’t need to touch in order to feel the waves of anxiety and anticipation mirrored in each other. They’re so occupied with their worried thoughts that they don’t even notice the very apparent surprise until they’re standing right in front of it.

The secondary base is fairly small, having only three hangars total, including the small addition that is Tyrant Omega’s bay. The main hangar has connections for six Jaegers, although it is only occupied by two at the moment, with an additional storage hangar where the base’s third Jaeger is situated. That hangar is only ever used if a Jaeger has suffered extreme damage and needs significant attention by mechanics and Drift technicians. It can hold four Jaegers at max capacity. Although the base is nowhere near the splendor of Tokyo’s ten hangar primary base, it serves to protect Miyagi and the surrounding areas, with additional room for any teams on transfer.

Today, however, there are three Jaegers in the main hangar. And one of them is only a tiny thing compared to the two giants.

Hinata gasps aloud. “Omega!” he cries. “Omega’s in the main hangar?”

Marshal Ukai’s grin widens. “It’s not very fair to separate him from the other main players if he’s going to start really fighting out there, is it? Let’s just say this is an incentive to do well—you pass today’s test, and you two will have a permanent spot next to Apocalypto Alpha.” Hinata’s eyes are shining, and even Kageyama is having trouble keeping a smile off his face. Behind them, Tsukishima clucks his tongue in disgust.

Daichi and Koushi might have let that go, but the Marshal is more perceptive than they are. “Oi, Tsukishima. You got a problem with these arrangements? I’m sure you wanted their Jaeger parked nicely next to yours…no? Then stop bitching and get suited up already, you giant pain in the ass.” Tsukishima skulks off with Yamaguchi in tow, successfully chastised.

“That applies to the rest of you, too,” Ukai adds. “We’re wasting time as it is. Hinata and Kageyama—your Drivesuit Room has an additional hallway attached that leads to your new station. The Drift techs’ll show you the way.”

The group dissipates, Takeda and Saeko following the Marshal, while the Jaeger pilots jog off to their respective changing rooms. Hinata bounces on his heels throughout the entire process, making his techs agitated that he might damage something important in the process. Kageyama is solemn and composed, for once. He doesn’t let his mind drift far from the task ahead of him. He pokes at Hinata through the bond, pressing his calmness and clarity of mind on his partner after the fifth time one his techs snaps at him. Hinata jolts in surprise, but accepts the touch of Kageyama’s mind, welcoming the air of peace he offers.

By the time they’re suited up, the Ghost Drift is thrumming strong between them, and they radiate a sense of purpose and professionalism that puts a confident stride in their step. They turn down the newly constructed hallway and out onto the catwalk leading to the Conn-Pod. From the elevated platform, they can clearly see all the activity of the base, as well as the other pilot teams, already suited up and ready to go.

Directly to their right, Daichi and Koushi are casually leaning on the railing of their own platform, and Koushi laughs at something Daichi says. Like all other Rangers, their suits match their Jaeger. Apocalypto Alpha is silver and gold, that unusual brightness, and her pilots are no different. The shining silver of Daichi and Koushi’s drivesuits draw attention to them from a mile away, practically glowing under the powerful overhead lighting. Splayed across the corresponding sides of their chests is their sigil—bright gold wings to match the winged badges of their uniforms. It makes them look very heroic, Kageyama thinks, and he knows Hinata feels the same way. His partner is transfixed, staring intently at their suits.

Well…they do stand out, but that’s pretty unusual. Kageyama glances out diagonally, where Tsukishima and Yamaguchi are chatting with their techs, most likely making final adjustments before the drills. They adhere to the norm of Jaeger pilots—dark colors and identifiable mostly by their own sigil. They Drift in midnight blue, with two jagged strikes of lightning crossing their chests and arms. The design is a bright yellow to match the gold lightning bolts crossing behind the ‘G’ of their badge. It may not be as flashy as Daichi and Koushi, but they’re definitely making a statement.

Kageyama unconsciously feels across his own chest. He and Hinata wear the unidentifiable black of a project that was almost scratched. Their colors are black for mystery and black for unpredictability. They have no sigil because their Jaeger is an unholy experiment, not up to par with the great legends that surround it. It kind of pisses Kageyama off.

“Hey, hey, hey! What’s with those long faces? You guys upset because you don’t look as fancy as those other four?” Kageyama and Hinata turn around quickly, guilty, to face Nishinoya.

“Noya-san!” Hinata chirps, slight embarrassment in his voice. “How did you know?”

The scientist laughs. “Eh, intuition. It’s gotta be a bummer to look up to all those cool teams before you with official color schemes and symbols and realize that you got the mutt of the family. Don’t worry about that too much though, ‘kay?” His smile grows into something fierce and proud. “’Sides, if you whoop their asses in the drills, who are they to deny you a badge of your own?”

Kageyama and Hinata match his smile. If nothing else, Noya is an excellent motivator and talented at raising the morale of the group. It’s no wonder Asahi puts up with his kaiju-obsessed nonsense.

“Well!” he says, clapping them on the shoulders. “I’ll be rooting for you. Why don’t you show everyone just what my pet project can do, huh?”

“Ossu!” the pair agree, nodding furiously. Nishinoya gives them a thumbs-up before he walks back along the catwalk, leaning his head over the side to holler for Tanaka, presumably somewhere farther below.

It’s time. Their Drift techs usher them to the Conn-Pod where they are fixed into place, falling back into the usual round of pre-Drift checks like clockwork. Hinata is immensely glad that they have practiced this over and over—his anxiety might have hindered the smoothness of their teamwork otherwise.

It’s a bit odd to hear Saeko address all three teams over the com, and even stranger to hear Tsukishima’s voice taking on a professional tone, contrasted against Daichi’s amused deeper one. They had been in the field together before, but never initiated Drift together, like a real team. The excitement rises like panic in Hinata’s limbs, making him twitch and drum his fingers against the gauntlet. It’s getting to Kageyama, just a little bit, through their connection, but he doesn’t bother to fight it. Saeko engages neural synchronization, and then the neural handshake, and then they are in.

The combination of Kageyama’s concentration and Hinata’s energy, backed by Omega’s solid support and protection steadies them into a strange rhythm that none are quite familiar with. It reminds Kageyama of the tension in the air at a championship game. Hinata’s mind flares in surprised agreement, and it’s enough to set them on the right course. They can do this. Why shouldn’t they? What’s a little pressure to them now that they have this beast of Jaeger on their side?

The cargo helicopters carry Omega and Strike out into the training bay, while AA walks herself out. Strike drops and steadies with the confidence and experience of tens of real missions, while AA strides with the pride and ease of a true point team. Hinata and Kageyama steady Omega, too, but in a more unnatural position—he’s hunched forward, almost crouched, as if wary of an enemy. Hinata and Kageyama feel the rightness of their movements from Omega. The kaiju brain inside of him knows just how to move every pseudo bone and muscle in his body.

 **Scary~,** Tsukishima calls in a sing-song voice across the com. **What’s with the bad posture, Omega?**

 **Why don’t you pay more attention to the task ahead of you, Strike?** Hinata snaps back.

 **Children, children,** Saeko breaks in with a sigh. **We’ve got a simulation to run.**

With Saeko’s interference, balance is restored to the group for the most part. The simulations and drills are not about individual talent, after all, but more about how well the teams could work in harmony. Any individual differences and disputes had to be thrown to the side in a battle against a kaiju. The only enemy in the field then was the alien—every other human alive was an ally.

On the HUDs of each Jaeger, mission control projected a model of a kaiju, with preplanned movements and attacks. The job of the team was to devise and carry out a plan to take down the kaiju with minimal assistance from mission control. Of course, in a real skirmish, they would have the Saeko’s eyes and voice with them at all times, but for the sake of these drills, the planning was left to the point team, in part to ensure that they could handle split-second thinking and decision-making. If they couldn’t think rationally under immense pressure, they weren’t cut out to be the main team.

No one needed to worry about Daichi and Koushi, however. From the moment Saeko said ‘simulation start’, Daichi buckled down on forming a strategy to test the simulated kaiju’s abilities and weaknesses, while Koushi clearly and effectively translated this plan into orders for each of their two assists, playing to Strike’s own strength of speed and Omega’s of variability and responsiveness.

“Strike, you’re on testing duty—you’ll be prodding at any openings we provide and hitting the kaiju with 70% power attacks. If you can’t do significant damage like that, switch tactics, and make sure to be in and out, don’t worry about taking him down. Omega, you’re our decoy—distract the kaiju with speed, weapons, noise—whatever you’ve got. Don’t get hit, and try to keep all the focus on you,” Koushi barks into the com.

 **Roger!** The replies come across as soon as he finishes speaking.

He grins at Daichi. “Ready?”

His partner gives him a playful grin. “You tell me—you’re the one in my head.”

Their first simulation goes off without a hitch. Strike gets lucky and finds that plasma cannons are particularly effective on the fake kaiju’s underbelly, and swords are better suited to ramming its spine. Strike leaves gaping, bleeding holes and gashes in the kaiju, infuriating it but not causing it fatal damage. It’d be able to pursue Strike more easily if Omega wasn’t so darn good at his job. Hinata and Kageyama, from the start, felt completely at ease with Omega’s semi-consciousness, and as a result, the connection from pilot to Jaeger was almost instantaneous. They were able to get in the kaiju’s space, punching at it or head-butting it while dodging any blows from its massive paws due to the pilots’ incredible instincts. Every flinch or flicker of intuition flowed through Omega’s movements, making him quick on his feet and varied in his movements.

Hinata and Kageyama also found that he could quickly sink to all fours and back to two legs with an ease not found in any other Jaeger. They could duck and jump back quickly, Omega’s movements only a beat behind theirs. They didn’t even need to use weapons, really, when Omega’s learning and evolving ability kicked in. It’s not like Omega didn’t instinctually know how to fight, but his ‘mind’ began to pick up on the pilots’ patterns, the Jaeger’s intuition matching that of his human pilots.

With an effective decoy occupying the kaiju’s full attention, AA was able to duck in after Strike and deepen the wounds, driving them over the edge from ‘bad news’ to ‘completely fatal’. The kaiju finally went down due not to any one killing blow, but the taxing minor wounds and loss of energy expended by combatting Tyrant Omega. The projection fizzled from their HUDs.

 **Good job, everyone!** Koushi says. **Especially good job as decoy, Omega; we hardly had to dodge a single blow.**

 **Nice distracting** , Yamaguchi offers. **Good takedowns, AA.**

 **Nice kill AA, Strike,** Hinata replies.

The second kaiju projection flickers to life, and the three teams take up offensive positions once more. There’re no breaks in these drills—it’s meant to press the stamina of the pilots, among other things. This kaiju is bigger and has more offensive capabilities than the previous, but Koushi and Daichi appraise it the same way.

 **Alright, we definitely want Omega on close combat decoy—keep up what you had going before, but look out; I think this one’s gonna be more inclined to hit back with those spikes and acid. Try using your shortest sword to slow him down. Strike, you’re sniping. Use whatever’s your strongest, and aim wherever we or Omega tell you is a weak spot. Daichi and I are on test duty,** Koushi instructs, and the three fall into their positions, easy as breathing.

Hinata knows that, of course, they have been put in the least valued position. They aren’t on the offensive, even with their short sword, jabbing at the virtual kaiju. It’s Strike and AA that are doing the heavy lifting, taking down the kaiju. Normally, he thinks that might have made him angry. But somehow, this duck-and-stab, this evasive, clever fighting is the most satisfying thing he’s ever done. He knows he’s being _useful_ to the teams, but even more than that, the satisfaction of each connecting blow and each miss of their opponents’ makes his blood sing with adrenaline.

He can feel that Kageyama’s emotions agree; feels it in his partner’s rapid heartbeat, the clenching of his teeth, the strain of his muscles. They have been training for this very moment.

So it doesn’t matter if their strikes only cause a stream of kaiju blue and not that gush of organs and blood that their partner teams’ do. After all, enough small strikes will eventually wear anything down, right? Even a kaiju. They pick up their pace, driving forward into the kaiju, dodging acidic spittle and dragging its attention back to them whenever it dares to look away. Even better is Omega’s bloodlust in response to their excitement. They worried once that Omega might not fight against a kaiju because he was, in fact, mostly kaiju himself. That was not the case.

Omega stuck with them to the scent of kaiju blood, put just as much force as the pilots did into each hit. His loyalties lay only with his human pilots, and he supported them with whatever animalistic knowledge and instinct lay within his synthetic mind.

 **Er…I think that’s good enough, Omega,** Koushi says across the com. His voice breaks the pilots from their tunnel vision, and they pull back obediently, a little confused. _Had that been…nervousness, in Suga-san’s voice?_

Kageyama understands when they’re far enough back to get a clear view of the simulated kaiju. The kaiju is moving sluggishly, trying to lash out at Omega or AA and failing, not because of the chips and chunks of its armor removed by Strike’s gun, or the holes from AA’s pulse-enhanced punches, but because of an innumerable amount of gashes along its front, causing hemorrhaging of blood. _They had done that, all by themselves._ Kageyama’s stomach flips a little in anxiety, too.

 **I’ve got a clear shot right where the damage to the chest is greatest,** Tsukishima says, bored. **Should I take it**?

 **Take the shot,** Daichi confirms, and Strike blows a hole the size of a building through the kaiju. For the second time, the kaiju projection fades. There’s silence for a moment; Kageyama and Hinata know they are to blame.

 **Ah, we were a little too overzealous,** Kageyama apologizes. **We’ll hold back next time.**

 **No, no…** Koushi laughs in disbelief. **I think we unconsciously put you in a position where you could cause the least trouble because we were anxious about the state of Omega. It’s our fault you’ve been restricted to decoy.**

 **We concur,** Tsukishima says, surprising the other pilots. **Omega is unnatural and unpleasant, and we didn’t want it to go berserk or anything. But Omega is valuable in the offense; I suggest assigning a new role.**

Daichi and Koushi make thoughtful noises, when Kageyama breaks in. **Not that we have any experience in the field, but I personally believe that this position is best suited to the variability and responsiveness of our Jaeger. We give you two the freedom to move easily, and if we can cause damage at the same time, that’s a bonus.**

 **Omega itself is not afraid to face a kaiju head on,** Hinata adds quietly. **He responds only to our desires and amplifies our unity so that we perform better.**

 **Okay then,** Daichi says after a beat of silence. **If you feel comfortable in your position, then with your performance, it shouldn’t be a problem.**

The third kaiju materializes, and by the time it is fully formed, Hinata and Kageyama have integrated smoothly into the team’s routine.

 

\-----------------

 

“I’ll never rest easy again,” Koushi whines as soon as the Drift techs strip him of his gauntlet and the command platform clamps. He rolls his shoulders a few times and hops in place to get the feeling of normal legs back.

“Why? What’s eating at you?” Daichi says with a laugh, already knowing the answer.

“Those darn kids of ours, Daichi,” Koushi says with an exaggerated sigh. “How am I supposed to sleep knowing how well they rode in their Jaeger, on their first real set of drills? Did you see their movements? Oh, we’re out of a job for sure.” He pretends to fan himself, looking faint.

Daichi rolls his eyes and flicks a stray piece of hair from Koushi’s face. “Oh please. I guarantee you, when we get out of this Conn-Pod they are going to be stumbling around on jelly legs like we were after our first drop. C’mon.” He walks through the door and onto the boarding platform, leaning on the railing facing Tyrant Omega. Koushi follows him out and leans into his side, gazing down at their juniors with amusement.

Daichi was right, of course. Kageyama and Hinata were stumbling around like newborn animals, unfamiliar with their own feet. It was an odd sensation felt after piloting a Jaeger for a long period of time. The pilots would become soused to the sensation of moving with the command platform and the heaviness of the Jaeger that once they were free of it, they walked much lighter than expected, and as a result, lost their balance. Kageyama and Hinata might have been piloting geniuses, but they were still very, very human.

Koushi laughs a little as Hinata drags Kageyama to the floor and they end up getting into a scuffle, still in their drivesuits, to the horror of the Drift techs. He’s so quietly amused by the two that it takes him a while to notice that Daichi’s arm went from reaching around him to the other side of the railing to resting comfortably around his waist. It’s not easy to feel through their bulky drivesuits, but the slight pressure makes itself known and Koushi feels his heart skip. _Calm, calm…stay calm._

It’s things like this that make Koushi really frustrated with Daichi. He thinks nothing of throwing an arm around Koushi’s shoulders, or falling asleep with his head in Koushi’s lap, or running his fingers through Koushi’s hair when they curl up to watch movies, just absently, like his fingers have a mind of their own. Or just casually holding Koushi like this, gentle but steady, like he knows Koushi won’t say or think a thing about it. But what really, really kills him, is that this doesn’t mean a thing at all.

“You wanna get changed?” Daichi asks, nudging Koushi, who nods robotically. Daichi lifts his arm from Koushi’s waist and Koushi mourns the loss of touch, if only a little bit. He follows his partner back to their Drivesuit Room, but his mind isn’t on getting changed.

This situation—their relationship—it has always been like this. Even from the beginning, Daichi has always been very tactile with Koushi. He didn’t understand it at first, and then even with the Ghost Drift, Daichi kept his reasons to himself.

“Does it bother you? Me touching you so familiarly?” Daichi had asked, seriously, one day. Koushi could only shake his head—after all, he thrived under Daichi’s attentions, practically lived for it.

“Then it’s not a problem,” Daichi had concluded, laughing at Koushi’s pout when he didn’t get a proper answer. Daichi’s expression softened. “Of course, if you end up finding a partner and then you want me to—”

“I won’t,” Koushi had broken in, breathless, and _oh_. So that’s what it meant, these conflicted, tormenting feelings inside him that he fought to hide from Daichi.

He will not ever forget Daichi’s bright, genuine smile when he said, “Good. I won’t either.”

How romance works with pilots differs from team to team. Some—mostly those who had a significant other prior to finding their co-pilot, or those who were related—chose not to interfere in each other’s love lives and leave well enough alone. Those pairs often suffered, especially if they had the Ghost Drift thrown into the mix. Not only did they feel the emotions of their co-pilot and in some cases, develop feelings for their partner’s lover, nothing was really secret between them with such a powerful bond. Lovers would even become jealous of the bond between pilots, and sooner or later there was a break. It was widely considered an inefficient way of dealing with romance.

The easiest option, of course, was to fall for your co-pilot. No secrets, no conflicting feelings, cooped up together all day…any physical or emotional needs were easily sated, and when the pilots were to inevitably die or retire, it would be together. Unless, of course, only one was to die or become unable to pilot, in which case, the other would retire anyway due to emotional strain.

And then there were the pilots like Daichi and Koushi. Openly accepting that they had no future outside of piloting and the war, they committed to no relationship, but rather to become each other’s bastion of stability. They were life partners; sworn to not pursue a relationship and to care for one another for life. Platonically married, it was also called.

They had made the agreement that day, before Koushi really understood what he was feeling, and by the time he was able to comprehend the depth of his feelings for Daichi, they were already happily in the routine of straddling the line between platonic and romantic. The things that he and Daichi did…they were not typical of two partners, even by piloting standards, but if he were to back off, he would ruin their perfect rapport. In the same way, if he was to act on his feelings and Daichi did not reciprocate, their compatibility would most likely shatter. Koushi doubted that Daichi would be disgusted with him or hate him, but the certain politeness and lack of touch that would follow would break Koushi’s heart.

So Koushi is left in the in-between, quietly drowning. He is thankful for the ability to shield his thoughts from Daichi—he’s discreet enough about it that even in the Drift, Daichi only can feel his boundless affection and trust, not the suffocating weight of Koushi’s unconditional love, nor the desire that licks at his stomach whenever Daichi carelessly changes in front of him.

—They’re in the Drivesuit Room. The Drift techs scurry around them, peeling off the armor with speedy delicacy. Daichi cocks his head to the side and regards his partner curiously. “Suga? You alright? You’re being pretty quiet…are Hinata and Kageyama really worrying you all that much?” His face is pinched in concern, and Koushi imagines rubbing the lines on Daichi’s face smooth with his thumbs, running his fingers along his cheekbones.

“No, no. It’s nothing, I’m just wondering if the Marshal will let them start on a Category Three or not. They were very capable—it’d be an honor,” he bluffs easily. It’s not a complete lie—he really is curious, since he and Daichi began on Category Two’s—but that’s not what he was focusing on.

Daichi grins. “Oh, I’m sure he will. Those kids made everyone proud today; Noya and Takeda are pretty relieved, too, I’ll bet.”

“Definitely,” Koushi agrees with a smile. He doesn’t let a single stray emotion slip, doesn’t let Daichi feel a thing when he watches the technicians pull the last parts of his drivesuit from his body, leaving him in a tank and sweats.

Koushi allows himself this. As long as the Ghost Drift is firmly under his control, he allows himself to appreciate Daichi’s body. His partner has always been stockier—not the tallest, but built wide and strong enough that not even Tsukishima would try and pick a fight with him. Daichi loathes shirts, ironically enough; god knows he gets on Tanaka’s back about putting clothes on when in front of important officials. And yet, he doesn’t seem to have an issue strolling around their quarters in only sweats and occasionally a tank, leaving Koushi to desperately try to think about _literally anything else_ in hopes that he won’t lose his mind.

Daichi drags a hand through his short hair, throwing his jacket over his shoulder and blinking expectantly at Koushi. Obediently, Koushi treads to his side, and they leave for their room. Daichi complains the entire way about how hungry he is, Koushi teases him about putting on too much weight, and a light-hearted banter kicks up between them, the warmth of their Ghost Drift buoying the two.

They arrive at their room, but Koushi doesn’t exactly feel like settling down yet. They’ve been doing drills for most of the day, and it’s probably halfway to dinner time, so he thinks he’ll pick up food for himself and Daichi. He relays this to his partner, who perks up and agrees wholeheartedly.

“Thanks, Suga,” he murmurs, grasping Koushi’s shoulder for a moment and squeezing it before stepping into their room.

Koushi is able to sweet talk the cook into giving him and Daichi their meals early with little difficulty, but he still feels antsy when they eat together, back at their quarters. He picks at his food even though he’s definitely hungry, drums his fingers on the table, and finds it hard to concentrate on the show he’d clicked to randomly on their television. Daichi had picked up on his restlessness ages ago; he was just sorting through possible ways to get Koushi to calm down a little. The answer comes to him, and he pokes Koushi with his foot.

“You like spending time by the ocean,” Daichi says matter-of-factly. Koushi looks at him like he’s crazy.

“…Yes? Where did this come from, all of a sudden?” Koushi frowns in confusion.

Daichi props his elbows up on the table and leans forward. “It’s dark out now, so I doubt anyone will be up on your favorite balcony at this time. Maybe talking to your parents will make you feel better.”

Koushi’s expression smooths. “You were worried about me.”

Daichi concursacross the Drift. He rubs Koushi’s ankle, pleased when he coaxes out a small smile from his partner. “You are okay, right?” Daichi asks seriously.

Koushi nods. “I think you’re right. I’ll go, just for a little while. Maybe that’s why I’m feeling so on edge; I just need to talk to them a little more.” He brushes a hand against Daichi’s arm as he walks to the door. He slips his jacket on. “I won’t stay out too long.”

“You better not,” Daichi calls. “I don’t like to be kept waiting.”

Koushi smiles as he closes the door.

\------------------------

 

There are no lights up on Koushi’s balcony. Not very many people even come up to use it, even though it has a terrific view of the ocean, and Koushi thinks it’s because of how thin the guardrails are and how the wind just seems to catch in this little corner of the earth and blow and blow. That’s fine—he likes the solitude at times like these.

He can only see a sliver of the moon with the scattered clouds in the sky; the stars aren’t visible at all. That’s even lonelier, Koushi thinks, because he’s always had the stars as his companions back in his village. He feels his way to the railing mostly through memory and small steps, wary of toppling right over and down onto the rocks. He finds it relatively easily, settling his arms across the top bar. The ocean is only a quiet murmur under the sound of the wind swirling around him.

Daichi knows him too well.

That’s almost half of Koushi’s problems condensed into one sentence. Daichi knows him, has known him, and will continue to know him like the back of his hand, as long as Koushi lives. Daichi had known to send him out here to iron out his thoughts. Daichi knows Koushi better than Koushi knows himself, sometimes. It’s frightening.

Everything would have been easier if Koushi could only love Daichi for his body. Koushi might have crushed on Kiyoko once upon a time, but his attraction to Daichi smacked him in his impressionable young heart the way no girl ever had. The strength to his build, the curves of his well-cared for muscles, the hardness of his jawline… It had burned right through him, that want; he had thought of Daichi in every way he could humanly fathom, dreamt of him so vividly that he woke up flushed and painfully hard—all before they even became partners. He could have just had Daichi once and been done with it, even if it left a bad taste in his mouth, just considering the possibility.

But then Koushi had to go and test Drift with him. He and Daichi were Drift compatible—that much they had made certain of in the Kwoon Room—but Koushi had never expected Drifting with Daichi and forming a true connection would be so invasive. Like Kageyama, he pulled the plug on their Drift, but unlike the newbie, he had not been fast enough to keep his partner from seeing the memory from back then.

The Miyagi base had been relatively new around that time, only about a year old and still trying to get on its feet. Back then, a Category Three was very bad news, and the Miyagi prefecture had only been attacked by Category Ones and Twos. No one expected or predicted any different, since the Threes seemed to target larger cities with more capable bases, anyway. The secondary base was more of a precaution or a back-up for the larger primary bases, should they be in dire need of assistance.

It was the foolishness of that assumption that led to the utter annihilation of the southern part of the prefecture along the ocean, when a Category Three surfaced, heading straight for it. Understaffed and underprepared, the new secondary base was far too late to save the towns and villages closest to the ocean.

No one in Koushi’s village started running until the silhouette of the kaiju was visible, making a beeline for the shore. Koushi remembers it with complete clarity, despite the chaos that surrounded him as the families tried to grab their dearest belongings and evacuate. He remembers the terror in the eyes of his mother and father, he remembers taking the hand of his younger brother and pulling him close to his chest, as if trying to shield him from the inevitability of the kaiju’s march forward.

They made for the car, of course. The Sugawaras were smarter than most; they left all their belongings in their house, tugged their elderly neighbors out of their home and into the car with them. Koushi had just shoved his younger brother in the car, closing the door and preparing to run around the other side and climb in himself.

The trees came out of nowhere. One second, he was standing and turning to run, the next, he was buffeted by glass shards to the face as two giant, uprooted trees came hurtling through the air, smashing the car instantly and shoving it a good two hundred meters forward. (Koushi doesn’t figure out until later that the kaiju had already made landfall, and that the massive swinging of its tails knocked trees and houses half a kilometer from where they originally stood.)

Objectively, he knows his family and neighbors were killed instantly. At the time, he didn’t even really compute what was happening, he just stared blankly at the spot where the car _should_ have been, blood dripping into his eyes from a large gash across his forehead. And the funniest, funniest damn part about the whole thing was that when he turned to look at his car—now a pile of scrap metal and splintered wood—he could see their boat, still tied up at the dock, sail fluttering lightly in the breeze, rocking back and forth from the kaiju’s wake, untouched.

The doctors that treated him said that he was in shock for almost the entirety of his village’s destruction, and that with the proper psychological care, recovery was a strong possibility. It didn’t sit right with Koushi, though, recovering while the rest of his family and many of his friends were gone from the world. He was an adult, and he decided that he’d do his best to make up for the mistakes of the Jaeger pilots that day by becoming one himself. He would never let another village like his get destroyed by the incompetency of those who were sworn to protect it.

He grew, he healed. Asahi followed him to the base; he succeeded in the Jaeger program, moved on, just a little bit. And then Daichi happened, and with Daichi, the flood of his memories of that day. His flattened village, the silence answering his calls for his brother, the thump of the kaiju’s feet, like the heartbeat of the earth in the distance…Koushi doesn’t even remember what happened between falling from the Drift and waking up screaming in Daichi’s arms. He was shaking fiercely and had to be sedated in the end, the onslaught of trauma was too great.

When he woke, of one thing he was certain: he would be immediately expelled from the program. The base had no need for pilots with intense psychological trauma, and there were scores of candidates that could Drift with Daichi, he was sure. Why Daichi was still by his side, soundly sleeping atop his crossed arms, however, Koushi hadn’t the faintest idea. He woke Daichi by running his fingers through his hair, as he had always wanted to, once upon a time. Back before he proved just how unstable he really was.

Daichi stirred, blinking his bleary eyes awake. He focused in on Koushi’s face and smiled softly. “Hey, you,” he said softly, his voice sleep-heavy.

“What are you doing here?” Koushi had asked, caving and returning the smile.

Daichi yawned a little, sitting up. “Well, I wanted to be with you the whole time, but I had to go argue with our rotation leader about keeping you in the program and then _that_ led to arguing with the Marshal, so I’m sorry, I haven’t actually been here all along.”

“What?” Koushi asked again, not really listening to anything Daichi had been saying, too busy focusing on the way his mouth shaped words.

Daichi raised an eyebrow. “I made sure that you stayed in the Jaeger Program, and that you’re still my partner.”

“ _What?_ ” Koushi had shrieked, then, sitting up so fast his head spun.

After that, Daichi ensured that Koushi got proper treatment for his trauma, and by the time Koushi figured out _wait, I’ve let him too close to me_ , they were already Drifting steadily and he had fallen completely and utterly ass-backwards in love with Daichi.

So here he is now—smitten with the man who had saved his career and nursed him back to health, one way or another. The same man who understands that he still needs to talk to his parents once in a while, and that he fusses over the younger pilots because he couldn’t watch his younger brother grow up, and that sometimes, he just needs to look at and listen to the ocean to hold himself together. Koushi is a broken, slowly, painfully mending mess, and Daichi is far too good for him.

He won’t risk their bond for anything, not even his own feelings. Because he loves Daichi the way he loves a whipping breeze, choppy waters, and the smell of sea salt. He loves Daichi like he loves his mother’s dresses, his father’s scratchy face, his brother’s crayon drawings. Daichi has become the home he sought when his was snatched away from him. That’s really all he needs, right?

Koushi smiles into his arms. “Good night Mom, Dad,” he says softly. He straightens up and fistbumps the open air in front of him—and swears he can feel a tiny fist match his in the darkness.

When he returns to Daichi, he’s feeling freer than before, satisfied. Daichi is lying across the couch, watching some anime that’s on with disinterest. He perks up when Koushi pokes him through the bond. He moves his legs to make room for Koushi, but Koushi pushes them back down and climbs over him, slotting himself between the couch and Daichi’s body. He buries his face into Daichi’s chest and doesn’t say anything, letting the Ghost Drift speak for him. Daichi, who had been stiff with surprise, relaxes, letting his hand drift down to stroke Koushi’s hair.

“Rough time?” he rumbles, voice low.

Koushi shakes his head and turns to face the television. “No, quite the opposite, actually. I was thinking about before we became pilots. And…and now.”

Daichi hums thoughtfully. Koushi feels it, and for some reason, that physical reminder of Daichi’s presence causes a sense of complete safety and tranquility to settle over him in a rush. Daichi pauses, leaning over to look at Koushi’s face. “That was quite a bit of emotion.” The question is unspoken.

“I love you, Daichi,” is what Koushi wants to say so, so bad. It nearly escapes when he parts his lips to speak. “Let’s teach Kageyama and Hinata how to use the Ghost Drift without touch,” is what he says instead. “And we should go to the beach or something with everyone, to celebrate them becoming Rangers and Tyrant Omega being a successful project.”

“Both of those sound like great ideas,” Daichi replies, and Koushi falls asleep to the rhythm of his steady breaths and the strokes through his hair.

 

\--------------------------

 

Hinata slams open their bedroom door, nearly giving Kageyama a heart attack.

“Dumbass Hinata, be careful with our door!” he snarls, trying to cover up his elevated heartbeat with anger. “You’re going to break it!”

It has to be the middle of the night, although Kageyama doesn’t bother to check his clock. He rolls over, away from the light and his troublesome partner. Hinata doesn’t say a thing, which should have been reason enough for alarm, but Kageyama steadily ignores any Hinata-related weirdness until Hinata pads to the side of his bed and shakes his shoulder.

“What the hell do you want, already?” Kageyama growls, slightly hysterical, still full of adrenaline from Hinata’s surprise entrance. He sits bolt upright and flinches away from Hinata’s touch. It’s suspicious, he knows, but Kageyama’s been feeling so off around Hinata lately, he doesn’t want to use the Ghost Drift directly with him.

Hinata won’t meet his eyes and he’s holding his arm awkwardly, shoulders hunched. Kageyama has a bad feeling about this. “I can’t sleep,” Hinata mutters.

Kageyama stares at him, not really comprehending. “I swear to god, if you say you’re having nightmares in your _twenties_ …” This cannot be happening to him. He will not play babysitter for his partner, no matter how nice he’s supposed to be to his co-pilot.

“That’s not it!” Hinata snaps, glaring at him. Kageyama only has a moment to feel relief. “It’s all your fault, you know!”

“Haaaa? How on earth is that my fault? Just go to sleep!” he replies, returning the glare. He has no patience for this nonsensical conversation.

“I told you, I can’t!” Hinata yells, leaping onto Kageyama’s bed and straddling him, grabbing at the front of his shirt. Hinata shakes him, looking as furious as Kageyama has ever seen him. “I can’t sleep, I can’t focus, I can’t even look at you, and somehow it’s all your fault, damn it! Fix it!”

Kageyama nearly jumps out of his skin at how close they are, trying to escape backwards, only to come into contact with the metal wall of their bedroom wall. He can feel the trembling in Hinata’s fingers as he furiously yanks on Kageyama’s shirt; the emotions rising from him are so twisted and confused, though, that Kageyama can’t make heads or tails of them. He stills Hinata with a hand to his shoulder at the end of his partner’s rant, and Hinata slumps down into Kageyama’s lap. Hinata’s head falls forward so that he’s leaning into Kageyama’s shoulder. “Fix it…you’ve got to…” He murmurs quietly.

He’s extremely vulnerable right now—Kageyama knows he has to be incredibly careful with Hinata. This is the weakest Hinata has allowed himself to be in Kageyama’s presence; a show of such powerful trust after yelling insults and curses at him. Kageyama’s messed up inside, not really sure how to handle this tired and frustrated Hinata. The hand on Hinata’s shoulder unconsciously squeezes and releases him with Kageyama’s nervousness.

It’s pretty late for Kageyama to realize the position they’re in, but when he stops freaking out about _oh god Hinata is having a mental breakdown_ and starts freaking out about _oh god Hinata is having a mental breakdown **in my lap**_ , things kind of go to hell. Watching your partner strip from their drivesuit is one thing, fantasizing about stripping your partner from their drivesuit _yourself_ is another, but Hinata is _here_ , he’s baring himself to Kageyama, and Kageyama may not be a teenager, but he’s certainly not too old to be immune to this. He doubts he’s actually ‘fixing’ anything like whatever Hinata is referring to, but it’s not like he’s been the most stable either, lately.

Kageyama’s hand steadies. He remembers that day in the Drivesuit Room, remembers thinking about touching Hinata, and his hand slides to Hinata’s neck, drawing up. He cards his fingers through Hinata’s mess of orange hair, running his thumb along Hinata’s jaw. Hinata sits back up, slowly, not saying a word, and Kageyama knows that this is the moment. He crossed a boundary of his own free will, and Hinata will either reject him or accept him, right here and now.

Hinata looks him dead in the eyes, Kageyama’s hand still cupping the side of his face. The electricity is palpable as Hinata regards him, coolly. They match stares for an uncomfortably long moment, and then Hinata’s eyes slide half-closed. He turns his face into Kageyama’s hand, breathing softly into his palm.

Kageyama knows he’s probably sweaty with nerves, but that wasn’t rejection, and this nuzzling of his hand is making his head spin. His thoughts and vision are almost too cloudy for him to catch the way Hinata’s eyes meet his a second time, an unidentifiable edge to them. Hinata’s lips brush his palm, and Kageyama is about ready to float off with this heady feeling when Hinata bites him, hard enough to snap Kageyama to the present. _Fuck_.

Kageyama’s entire body flinches in response. His bitten hand jerks away from Hinata, while the other moves to clutch at Hinata’s hip, completely of its own will. His legs jerk in towards himself, sliding Hinata even further into his lap. Hinata chases after his hand, tongue flicking out to soothe away the burn of his bite. He puts Kageyama’s hand back to his face after, arching his back a little to press their lower halves together with just the slightest amount of friction.

Kageyama hisses, and fuck it, if he wasn’t turned on before, he most definitely is now. He grabs at Hinata’s face, pulling him down to fit their mouths together in a searing open-mouthed kiss. Hinata sighs into his mouth and his body shudders, Kageyama’s hand tightening on his hip. Hinata’s hands go for Kageyama’s night shirt, shoving it up so he can get at the muscles hidden beneath.

Kageyama has no patience for Hinata’s exploratory hands, even if the feathery hot touch burns him up in the best way, and he sucks so hard on Hinata’s bottom lip he prays that it bruises. Hinata’s breath shakes and he grinds down almost subconsciously, leaving them both gasping into each other at the contact. Their eyes meet briefly, widening, and then Hinata whispers, sounding out of breath, “Kageyama…that…”

Kageyama’s hand snaps away from Hinata’s face and to his other hip so fast he doesn’t even register the response. Hinata stops feeling him up and instead cups his face, turning Kageyama’s head so that he can get the exact angle he wants. There’s tongue and teeth and Hinata can’t even remember what his own mouth tastes like with Kageyama trying to shove his tongue down Hinata’s throat, but Hinata definitely knows the feeling when Kageyama grinds his hips down again with possessive force.

He snarls into Kageyama’s mouth, snapping his hips against Kageyama’s, throwing him off his rhythm so that Hinata can take control, sliding their mouths together again. They’re sweating by now—panting, actually—and god, Kageyama just wants to lose his clothes already, wants to feel Hinata’s body burn against his. They’re arguing with their hips, Hinata having one idea of pacing and Kageyama another, but they move together, just once, and Kageyama nearly sobs at the spike of pleasure that shoots through his gut.

He whines into Hinata’s neck, nipping at his skin and Hinata almost laughs, a choking, desperate noise. Why are they wearing clothes, again? “Enough, enough,” Kageyama struggles to say, his voice cracking. He pushes Hinata back a little, and Hinata leans back against his legs, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, eyes half-lidded. It’s filthy and actually really, really _slutty_ the way Hinata looks—and is looking at _him_. Kageyama can’t think anything through with clarity, but he’s sure—dead sure—that he is going to fuck his partner in about two minutes.

Kageyama leans forward, sliding his hands up Hinata’s sides, dragging his shirt with them. He can see the goosebumps on Hinata’s abdomen with every inch of skin he reveals, and Kageyama kisses Hinata’s stomach out of instinct. Hinata’s panting for a whole new reason now, Kageyama’s mouth following his hands further up Hinata’s chest, Hinata working his fingers in the shoulders of Kageyama’s nightshirt.

“Tease,” he hisses. Hinata bats Kageyama away and practically tears his shirt off. He shoves Kageyama down then, sliding him from the wall to his mattress, sitting triumphantly between his legs. Hinata leans forwards, balancing his weight on his hands. He stares down at Kageyama, refusing to break eye contact even as he presses himself against Kageyama once more, long and slow. Kageyama bites back a pathetic noise just in time, reaching up to shove Hinata over and teach him a thing or two about teasing, when a loud alarm goes off, startling Kageyama.

The vision of Hinata and their room blurs from focus as Kageyama jerks awake, but the feeling is most definitely still there. Kageyama _aches_. He struggles to a sitting position, forcing his bleary eyes to focus. He throws the mess of blankets over and around his lap fearfully. His instinct is spot on—Hinata jolts awake not two moments after Kageyama with a squawk of surprise at the alarm. Kageyama fumbles for his clock while trying to stay seated and not _come in his fucking pants_. He manages to slap the off button on the stupid thing, which he belatedly realizes is a mistake. He’s left in complete silence with Hinata staring him down with eyes the size of saucers.

Lacking the loud distraction, the reality of Kageyama’s situation comes to light. Not only is their bond _wide open_ and projecting his sexual frustration like a beacon directed straight at Hinata, but Hinata, too, is majorly turned on. They stare, paralyzed in fear and mortification, at each other. Hinata’s face is completely crimson, a mirror of Kageyama’s. The Ghost Drift does nothing to alleviate the situation, bouncing back their lust and amplifying it, as the Drift tends to do with any other feelings.

Hinata sputters out, “I-it’s just a natural function of the body, you know!” finally breaking the silence.

“ _Shut up!_ ” Kageyama practically screams, hurling his pillow as hard as he can at Hinata’s face.

Hearing the fear and hysteria in his own voice is enough to drag Kageyama back to earth and get rid of his boner faster than he ever thought possible. He stands up stiffly and sprints for the bathroom, wanting to put as much distance between himself and Hinata as possible. Hinata yells something at him as he flees, but Kageyama doesn’t care to listen. He slams the door and locks it, throwing his back against the door once he’s safely inside and sinking to the floor, burying his face in his knees. Hinata is pulling away from him along their connection and Kageyama does the same, until Hinata’s presence is only the faintest acknowledgement in the back of his mind.

What the hell was that? Kageyama hugs his knees, trying to erase the fading wisps of the dream from his memory and slow his heart rate. _What the hell was that?_ Everything—the room, the bed, the heat, Hinata’s skin—it had all felt so real. Had that really been just a dream? Kageyama can still feel the phantom touch of his hands on Hinata’s hips, the cold drip of sweat from Hinata’s brow on his arm and stomach; hear the rustle of clothes caught between the press of their bodies, the light and quick breaths from their open mouths. No good, he was getting all worked up again. Of everyone at the base, though—why’d it have to be _Hinata_?

Kageyama knows the answer of course; he’d just prefer not to think about it. Hinata burns through him, from Drift to dream, the wicked fire of his soul scarring Kageyama’s mind. As if he’d be able to so easily forget Hinata’s wild energy and tireless drive! He’d introduced himself as a nuisance in Kageyama’s life, but then he’d proved himself an equal and invaluable ally. Hinata pushed Kageyama to heights he’dnever known, never backing down or putting the brakes on. He was gorgeous, too, not that Kageyama put much weight on appearances. Hinata had the rare ability to draw Kageyama’s attention to him with thin fingers, intense eyes, and nimble movements Kageyama had trouble tracking.

Yes, alright, Kageyama can admit he thinks Hinata is incredibly fucking hot, but that doesn’t mean he has to act on his impulses or even let Hinata know they exist in the first place. That would have been the plan, if that damn dream hadn’t blown their unsteady truce to pieces. With any luck, Hinata won’t realize that _he_ was the reason for Kageyama’s sudden hard-on, but Kageyama doubts even _Hinata_ could be ignorant of how desperately Kageyama had wanted him in that moment between sleep and waking.

A sickening thought enters Kageyama’s mind: hadn’t something like this happened before? He thinks back and remembers the meatbuns, the fucking meat buns. If a thought as mundane as craving a certain food could pass through the Ghost Drift without touch, then why wouldn’t one of overwhelming carnal urges? Hinata had woken in much of the same situation as Kageyama—had he reacted to Kageyama’s dream fantasy?

That’s two levels of crazy Kageyama’s mind fizzles out trying to comprehend. Had he turned Hinata on just with his own body’s responses, or had Hinata reacted to the way Kageyama poured over him in his dream? Either option opens the door to possibilities that make Kageyama’s head spin. _The things he could do to Hinata…_

No, now was not the time to think about that. Kageyama was more concerned with whether or not Hinata knew what he had dreamed about. Would he hate Kageyama, if he knew? Would he request a different co-pilot or just push through, ignoring Kageyama to the best of his abilities? ...Would he return Kageyama’s attraction?

Kageyama jumps for the second time that day at a banging on the door to their quarters. He rocks to his feet, ready to answer the door, when he hears the pounding of Hinata running to the door. “C-coming!” Hinata yells, and damn it, he still sounds flustered. Kageyama bites the inside of his cheek, steadily does not look at himself in the mirror, and opens the bathroom door to face their visitors.

Daichi and Koushi stand in the doorway, looking refreshingly chipper.

“Daichi-san, Koushi-san…what’s this about?” Hinata asks, confused, managing to look slightly less guilty than Kageyama.

“We’re going to teach you two how to use the touch-free Ghost Drift,” Koushi explains with a bright smile. Kageyama feels his stomach drop in response and he really, really kind of hates Suga-san right then.

Hinata, on the other hand, can’t seem to see the problem with it, a smile breaking out on his face. “Seriously?” he yelps, “That sounds cool! Is that like how you can find Daichi-san anywhere, Suga-san?”

Koushi nods, stepping into their quarters. “Yes, although there’s far more to it than just that.”

“You doing alright, Kageyama?” Daichi asks, glancing at the fledgling pilot. “You look pretty sick.”

“’M fine,” Kageyama manages, seeing Hinata give him a curious look without any malice or suspicion behind it.

Koushi and Hinata sit at the breakfast table, Daichi perched behind his partner as always, and Kageyama leans against the wall, arms crossed. “I’m sure you know this already,” Kageyama says carefully, keeping his voice even, “but we’re already capable of sending emotions without touch.” Hinata doesn’t react visibly.

Daichi nods. “That’s true, but that’s a pretty basic skill. Complicated things like thoughts and words take a lot of practice and knowledge from those who’ve already done it. You two are used to using touch as the bridge, but with this technique, you’ll be forced to recognize and strengthen the ever-present bond that has formed between you.”

“Additionally,” Koushi breaks in, “we’d like to teach you how to put up walls. We were hesitant before, since your teamwork was still somewhat shaky, but now you’ve been able to Drift and fight in the field so well, we figured it’s about time you learned. The connection is important, but there’s always going to be some more…private…parts of your life that you may want to keep, well, private. Or maybe you just want to be alone in your head a little bit.”

Kageyama and Hinata flush at Koushi’s implication and Daichi laughs. “Seems like they’ve already encountered that particular issue. Alright, we’ll work on the walls first.”

It’s not as hard as they had expected to block each other out. Kageyama’s a natural at it, recalling the way he fought off Hinata originally. Even with Hinata touching him, he’s able to mute his thoughts and feelings down to almost nothing. He doesn’t like the panicked look Hinata gets in his eyes when he can’t feel Kageyama, though, so he doesn’t hold the wall up long.

Hinata struggles much more. He’s an open book even for those who aren’t linked to him; cutting off the one closest to him is damn near impossible. Kageyama can feel Hinata trying to reject him, the attempts rippling across the bond. He sighs, shoving aside the awkwardness of the morning’s event in order to assist his partner. He scoots closer to Hinata, grumbling. “You’re having trouble visualizing a wall, aren’t you? That’s my technique, not yours—give up on it.” Hinata looks hurt for a moment, efforts stuttering to a standstill before Kageyama explains.

“You’re more destructive than me, after all. The ‘wall’ I think about is a peaceful barrier, not interrupting our connection as much as it is shielding me from your reach. In your case, though, stopping me in the middle of the connection would be a better option. Try and…crumple…the bond. Or at least create some kinks in it, like you’re trying to wrinkle it, so that I can’t break through.” Hinata’s eyes widen in understanding and he squeezes his eyes shut, focusing.

Kageyama waits for a moment, then reaches for Hinata’s mind. He nearly balks at the feeling. As he had suggested, Hinata has tangled their bond into such a mess Kageyama can’t even begin to untangle it. He pokes and prods, trying fervently to get to Hinata, but to no avail—he is held at a distance. Hinata opens his eyes and smiles, thrilled at his ability to thwart Kageyama. “It’s working!” he exclaims. True enough, Hinata is able to keep Kageyama’s mind from his, but it’s unnerving. The sensation of being connected to someone had really faded into normality in the back of Kageyama’s head, and now the emptiness is off-putting. He doesn’t like it. At all.

Kageyama rests a hand directly on Hinata’s skin, startling him into releasing his strangling hold on their connection. Kageyama’s mind flows into Hinata’s, cool and not unwelcome. Kageyama is relieved—more so than he had realized—and the knowledge of his emotions flits across to Hinata faster than he can stop it. Hinata raises an eyebrow, but his smile doesn’t falter.

“Try pushing against my hand with your mind, now,” Kageyama instructs, attempting to draw Hinata’s focus away from their link. “Not so much the hand as much as the warmth and human aura it gives off. Try and feel no touch at all from me.”

Hinata is successful with this much quicker. Again, the feeling is strange to Kageyama. He can feel Hinata pushing him away, unlike when he touches a normal person. It feels like a thin slip of paper has been inserted between Hinata’s skin and his. It’s unpleasant, but at the same time, Kageyama figures this kind of division between them will probably become useful in the future, what with his lust and their mutual inclination to fight.

Daichi and Koushi watch from the sidelines, amused but not surprised by the developments. This was becoming a pattern—they would describe how to do something that had taken them ages to master, and then the two newbie pilots would master it and shape it into something that was of greater benefit to them than in its original form. “In time, they’re going to be one hell of a point team,” Daichi whispers to Koushi, too low for Kageyama and Hinata to hear him. Koushi nods, a sense of pride filling him.

“If you can manage the walls, then touch-free Ghost Drifting will be a breeze,” Koushi explains, breaking their concentration. “You both have probably felt the bond between you pretty solidly by now. It can be widened and narrowed, stretched and twisted—all depending on what you want to do with it. When you want to send something across the connection, try and think of it as a large ripple, snapping the bond like a whip. Some things, like location and emotional state of your partner will rebound immediately, but if you want a response, it might take a little longer. You’d best just try it out, learn from experience.”

Hinata, eager to prove himself, does just that. The connection whips from Hinata to Kageyama and back, giving Hinata the most accurate snapshot of Kageyama’s condition he had ever felt. Kageyama blinks in surprise, not expecting his reaction to be so immediate. He feels for Hinata, much more calmly, the ripple shuddering gently there and back, so light Hinata can hardly feel it.

They practice like that for a while, merging from emotions into simple thoughts contained in each swell of the bond. Hinata yelps excitedly when he asks Kageyama a question and gets a specific reply. It’s like telepathy; not quite as direct or quick, but still fairly comprehensible. The slower and softer the wave, the longer and more emotional the thought; the faster the wave, the more specific and verbally the thought is communicated, with a quicker response.

Even Kageyama, after an hour or so, is grinning and even biting back a laugh at how smooth this transition is. He likes that he can keep an eye on Hinata, and Hinata likes that he can pester Kageyama to bring him food or spar with him. It’s going to help them in their piloting and day-to-day life significantly—not to mention they can safely communicate thoughts and emotions while keeping the more private ones to themselves. Kageyama is immensely relieved, yet again.

 _About this morning…_ Hinata starts, god dammit. Kageyama can’t catch a break even after catching a break. He wants to sigh, wants to scream, wants to throw himself to the kaiju—but none of those options will solve the problem of his co-pilot, so he only allows a measured _yes?_ as a reply.

 _We’re…we’re all okay, right? We’re still good?_ Hinata asks, hesitantly, a fluttering undercurrent of worry to his thought-speak. Kageyama meets his eyes across the floor they’re seated on, spread further apart than before. Hinata is blushing, just a little bit, and Kageyama know he’s warm, too.

 _…Yeah_ , he replies, finally. _Of course we’re fine_.

“You two better hurry on over to Shimizu,” Daichi says softly, recognizing the flicker of friendly connection between them and attempting to keep from disrupting it. “She’s the one who’s offered to do the fittings for your official uniforms after all.”

Kageyama and Hinata go from thoughtfully regarding Daichi to yelling and leaping towards the two veterans in the blink of an eye. “What do you mean, ‘official uniforms’, Daichi-san?!” Kageyama practically explodes. “What’s happening?”

“U-uniforms…” Hinata whispers in awe.

“Oh, didn’t you know?” Koushi feigns innocence. “Your initiation ceremony as Rangers is tomorrow. I thought you got the memo.”

Koushi’s declaration sets off another bout of scrambling and excited high-pitched questions. _Are you serious? We’re really going to be Rangers? Where is Shimizu-san at this time, again?_

The pair are off to find the reserved Kwoon Room Master in record time, tearing clothes off and throwing new ones back on with little regard for the presence of their superiors. Daichi and Koushi grin to each other the entire time. Kageyama and Hinata are really something—something incredible and something new; something to turn the tide of the war and something to laugh about. Daichi realizes, in a kind of unconscious and uncalled for way, that he loves the boys dearly. He’s never had kids—never will, either—and they aren’t even that much younger than him, but this sense of pride and fulfillment is that of a parent watching his little snot-nosed brats grow to fill their own shoes.

The emotion is reflected almost instantaneously by Koushi. His partner tucks a strand of hair behind his ear and then squeezes Daichi’s knee, a physical confirmation that _yes, they really are our children_. Daichi feels a pang of something else, something mournful and not quite fully materialized that he shields from Koushi. It’s a regret or a lament of some kind that he feels ache in his bones; something that only reveals itself when he thinks of how great Koushi is with their subordinates, how well he works with everyone, how wonderful a father Koushi could have been. And the pang really hits him when he thinks how great _they_ could have been together, balancing each other out and raising a bright-eyed little brood of their own.

It’s not Daichi’s place to think about that, though; not his place to wonder about some life that isn’t his. Daichi’s not much of a dreamer, but he’s not unhappy with how his life has turned out either. He’ll take the babies of their ‘family’, struggling to stick a foot in the right shoe; he’ll take the pesky, petulant teenagers, sulking in some dark corner together or aggravating the rest of the base and causing a scene; he’ll take his partner as he is, gentle eyes and a halo of silver hair, and Daichi won’t imagine a wife and a family better than the one he has now. Honestly, he doesn’t think it gets any better than this.

 

\--------------------

 

“BEACH DAY!! GET DRESSED YOU SORRY SHITS; IT’S TIME TO GET OURSELVES SOME DAMN VITAMIN D!!” Noya’s voice booms down the halls of the base and Kageyama wonders, not for the first time, how a human so small can make so much noise.

“Noya-san, I’m coming!” Hinata hollers right back, throwing open the door to their quarters and tearing out after the scientist. Ah, that’s right. Maybe it was just in their DNA.

Kageyama picks up the sunscreen and bottles of water Hinata had forgotten in his rush, purposefully neglecting to grab Hinata’s shoes. If that idiot wanted to burn his feet off, he could go right ahead. Kageyama carelessly tosses the assembled items into a beach bag, including his own towel in the process. He slings the bag over his shoulder and walks out of the room, closing the door properly and rolling his eyes as he divines Hinata’s location. He hadn’t even gotten that far—stopped by Saeko and Michimiya, the two apparently in charge of getting the full kaiju response team together.

Koushi had told Kageyama and Hinata about his plan to hold a beach day event to relieve some of the stress the pilots had and to celebrate the promotion of the new Rangers (Kageyama still puffed up his chest when he remembered his newfound importance to the base). Everyone had been invited; from the Jaeger techs and mechanics to the scientists and Marshal Ukai. Of course, a group had to stay behind and monitor the Pacific for any kaiju movement, but Asahi had assured everyone that there wasn’t to be an attack anywhere in their vicinity for at least the next week.

As it turned out, nearly everyone was enthusiastic about Koushi’s suggestion. The girls and the scientists were immediately onboard—unsurprising, since they were cooped up in their control rooms and labs, respectively, all day long. Asahi had insisted that he was needed within the borders of the base and therefore did not need to go to the beach, but once Nishinoya pointed out that the beach was _technically_ government property and still within the base’s borders, Asahi’s wishes were largely ignored. “This is for his own good!” Noya insisted, dragging his lab partner back to his room. Even Takeda-sensei was utilizing his persistence and urging the Marshal to take a break from work before his hair turned grey like Koushi’s.

Kageyama and the other pilots also felt grateful for the stress reliever. The initiation ceremony had been great of course, but there was a certain weight placed on his and Hinata’s shoulders along with the title of ‘Ranger’. They couldn’t afford to mess around with Omega any longer. Now they played for keeps.

( _Aside from that, though, the ceremony had been incredible. There was no formal auditorium or stage for their awards to be presented, but the Marshal had made do. Tanaka and his mechanics assembled an elevated platform with a microphone placed atop it to serve as a temporary stage, and a mismatch of chairs had been gathered and arranged in neat rows._

_More people showed up than Kageyama had expected—it was optional to attend, but many of those who came had apparently been supporting the project from the sidelines, either in putting together the Jaeger, designing the nerve fiber drivesuits, or aiding in the control room with Drifting. Even a significantly large batch of recruits showed up—most probably to gawk at the Shatterdome, one of their few opportunities to see it, but others were there in support. Kouji and Izumi had gathered up Hinata’s entire old rotation to support him, and their smiles and thumbs-up of pride had Hinata practically vibrating in happiness._

_Kindaichi, Kunimi, and some other faces Kageyama recognized appeared too, though he didn’t feel even the slightest bit apprehensive about their presence—Kageyama knew where he stood now. Kindaichi fixed him with an intense stare when their eyes met, his expression blank. After a long moment of sizing each other up, Kindaichi nodded at Kageyama—the only time he had recognized him aside from his taunts and bitter insults. Kunimi, too, raised an eyebrow and shook his head, but it didn’t feel antagonistic, just accepting. Their recognition left Kageyama with a strange feeling in his chest; it wasn’t exactly **happy** , per se, but it was comforting nonetheless to know his two most bitter acquaintances acknowledged him. _

_The Marshal had said his piece, Takeda-sensei his, and then Daichi spoke for both himself and Koushi, welcoming the two fledgling Rangers into their midst. Marshal Ukai presented them with their pins—and consequently, their sigils—the sterling silver outline of an almost reptilian head, decorated with a crown of horns and a halo above them, the Greek letter ‘omega’ emblazoned across its face in black; the pin sparkled against the black of their suits, neat and smart. Shimizu, it seemed, was talented not only in battle, but in finding the exact garb to match the pilots._

_Even if the suits itched a little, Kageyama and Hinata stood tall, shoulders thrown back as they were pinned, proudly displaying the proof that they were worth something to this world. And at the end of it all, a round of applause, even from Kindaichi and Kunimi, reluctant as it was. Kouji cried, Izumi did not, and the entire group that had worked directly with the new Rangers surged in to give backslaps and handshakes of congratulations._

_Just like a tight-knit family, Kageyama thought._ )

Hinata greets Kageyama with an ecstatic wave and a push of _what took you so long?_ across their link when Kageyama reaches the slowly building group. Aside from Saeko and Michimiya, Tsukishima and Yamaguchi are there—Tsukishima with his headphones firmly secured around his head, pointedly not looking at any of the assembled, and Yamaguchi fidgeting shyly next to Hinata, ducking his head to greet Kageyama. Saeko is taking great pride in her bikini and shorts, sunglasses propped up on her head, while Michimiya fawns over her with the slightest tint of pink across her cheeks, dressed in a light-colored sundress and a straw hat herself.

Kageyama joins the group without a verbal greeting, nodding a little at Yamaguchi and shoving at Hinata across their link out of habit. Hinata growls at that, half of him itching to pick a fight with Kageyama, the other half wanting to talk some more with Yamaguchi who, as he has found, is actually _not_ an asshole, but a delusional prisoner of Tsukishima’s that must be rescued at all costs. Hinata is spared the decision when Daichi and Koushi arrive, pushing a rather unenthusiastic and green-in-the-face Asahi.

“Really, it’s okay, I don’t have to go, I’m fine in my lab—” Asahi attempts to reason with his captors, who steadily ignore him with friendly smiles and cheerful voices.

“Well, since Takeda-sensei will be meeting us out there with Shimizu and hopefully the Marshal, it looks like we’re all set to go!” Koushi says.

“W-wait!” Asahi yelps. “Where are Noya and Tanaka? You wouldn’t want to leave without them.” The two veteran pilots look to Saeko, who shrugs at their unspoken question. Like she had any rein on them. Daichi hums thoughtfully and Asahi relaxes a little.

But speak of the devil and he shall appear, Asahi finds out, when the troublesome scientist-mechanic duo reappear, yelling at the top of their lungs. Unlike the rest of the pilots and Asahi, who had opted to wear a shirt with their board shorts, Nishinoya and Tanaka sprinted towards the group topless, wearing the most hideous and obnoxiously bright swim trunks in existence.

“Neon vomit colored…” Yamaguchi mutters.

“Never fear, we return bearing gifts!” Tanaka declares, planting his hands on his hips. For the first time, the group notices the two large coolers Tanaka and Nishinoya had been dragging around. Nishinoya throws open the lid to reveal an astonishing number of beers on ice. “Now we can really make it a party!” Tanaka crows in victory.

“Ryuu!” Saeko wails, throwing her arms around her brother. “My little brother may be spoiling his good looks with his shitty fashion sense, but he’s also spoiling us with drinks!”

“Shitty fashion sense…?” Tanaka mutters in confusion while trying to pry his sister off of him. “Oi, nee-san, let go!”

“Indeed, let’s go!” Saeko crows, dropping her brother to grab Michimiya and Nishinoya’s hands, dragging the two towards one of the base’s side exits with a look of glee plastered across her face. Michimiya sputters but follows along obediently; Noya whoops with excitement and charges forward, cooler forgotten.

“Oh, Noya…” Asahi sighs, grabbing the cooler himself with a hopeless sigh. Daichi and Tanaka clap him on the back, and Asahi jumps.

“That’s the spirit, ace! Resign yourself to a fate of relaxing on the beach,” Daichi laughs. Asahi manages a tentative smile and follows them out, Tsukishima and Yamaguchi not far behind, brushing close together as they walk.

Kageyama ends up leaving too, after he hears Hinata’s soft voice asking Koushi, “Suga-san? I have a question about the Ghost Drift…” The trailing off was caused by Kageyama’s presence, that much he could feel. He isn’t really offended; Hinata is allowed to have his own private conversation with Koushi, as long as he shares any information relevant to their Drifting ability with Kageyama.

Hinata senses Kageyama’s acknowledgement and acceptance of his feelings, no lingering bite of hurt or sting of resentment towards Hinata for seeking privacy—he let it go almost immediately, even drawing away from their connection respectfully. Hinata figures that it was due to the awkwardness of the previous morning, a memory still vivid and raw in both their minds, that Kageyama kept his distance without any complaint. Hinata understands the sentiment. Even though Kageyama had assured him—in his own, brusque way—that everything was alright between them, Hinata was still hesitant to probe too closely at his partner’s mind, too.

“Yes, Hinata?” Koushi replies with a gentle smile, blinking expectantly at him.

Hinata bites his lip. “Um…it’s a bit of a strange notion, and this might be a stupid question, but…is it possible to Drift with your partner while you’re sleeping?”

Koushi nods. “Oh, sure, it’s completely possible. Daichi has told me many times that he’s gotten weird vibes or images from me when I was sleeping. He thinks it’s pretty funny, though, that I bother him across the Drift even unconsciously.”

Hinata’s hands curl into fists, not out of anger, but anxiety. Koushi notes this, his eyebrows pulling together slightly. “Was that not the answer you wanted? I thought you and Kageyama had some kind of altercation over meat buns that you dreamt about already.”

“That’s not…that’s not _exactly_ what I meant,” Hinata grinds out, face turning an interesting shade of pink at having to spell out his problem. He doesn’t meet Koushi’s eyes and speaks quietly. “I mean, do you ever kind of…share…your dreams with Daichi-san? Like, where you’re both in the dream a-and you’re able to affect the other person, even though they’re asleep?”

The puzzle pieces begin to click in Koushi’s head, and he conceals a fond smile. **_That_** _was the issue, then_. “Personally, that kind of connection has never occurred between me and Daichi,” Koushi says, attempting to mollify a distressed Hinata. “However, I’ve heard of a similar phenomenon happening to other pilots. It can range from something as simple as forced empathy, where your co-pilot wakes up feeling the same emotions as you, or even as far as dreamwalking, where two pilots share the dream and are fully autonomous.”

Koushi doesn’t probe at what is undoubtedly a sore spot for Hinata. He must have had some uncomfortable dream about Kageyama, or the other way around. They were adorable—he couldn’t wait to tell Daichi about how much they had progressed even without the veterans’ help. At the same time, it was a bit unnerving how quickly the two polar opposites had merged wavelengths and grown intimate with each other. Koushi had never heard of any pilots linking so fluidly together; perhaps this was one of those one-in-ten-million incidents where perfect halves of the same whole collided to form an inseparable team.

Hinata is quiet after Koushi’s explanation. If their Ghost Drift could fall under any part of that scale, then the events of two nights ago made sense, even if Hinata didn’t want to admit it. Why did this have to happen to him, again? Was his karma truly _that_ bad? Why did it have to be _Kageyama_?

Hinata doesn’t recall exactly how the dream begins—it’s a little blurry—but he does remember throwing open a door with a feeling of desperation, practically throwing himself at a confused and hardly even awake Kageyama, blaming him for a problem Hinata didn’t even understand himself. All Hinata knows is that there has been a strained atmosphere between himself and Kageyama lately. And maybe Kageyama was causing it, maybe it was Hinata causing it in reaction to Kageyama’s very existence—either way, it was Kageyama’s fault, and it was up to him to fix it. Kageyama had been there for him when they first began Drifting, when Izumin’s mom got sick, when they had to go up against Omega for the first time: why wouldn’t Kageyama be there for him now?

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Hinata had been aware that he was dreaming, and that dream-Kageyama couldn’t _really_ help his problems with real-Kageyama, but he just wanted some kind of assurance that this could be mended, this thing between them he didn’t quite understand. As if responding to Hinata’s unspoken pleas, dream-Kageyama had touched him. It wasn’t invasive or perverted in any way; though the touch seemed to set Hinata’s skin aflame, the comforting intentions and care behind it was apparent. It was so unlike Kageyama, and yet, the thumb caressing the length of Hinata’s jaw with warm, soft strokes seemed to be the truest expression of Kageyama’s feelings that Hinata had ever experienced.

He looked up—of course he did, he _had_ to, he needed to see this true-fake Kageyama himself—but what he saw was more than he felt. Kageyama looked at him not just with the occasional tender care that he had shown in times of Hinata’s great distress, nor the constant worry for his partner’s wellbeing usually presented in the chewing of his inside cheek, but with something darker. Kageyama’s eyes were always dark, but often Hinata was reminded of the early morning sky, open and light. These eyes, though—these eyes were the color of the ocean floor, too deep and wide and dark for any living being to return from alive. Hinata was sure he’d be swallowed up by Kageyama’s intense stare, braced only by the hand so delicately cupping his face and—

The warm feeling of Kageyama’s touch pooled low in Hinata’s stomach. _Oh_. So _that’s_ what it meant.

He didn’t consciouslydecide to melt into Kageyama; it was more of an instinct driven by the fact that this was a dream, and this dream-Kageyama could neither deny him nor ruin the rapport of their connection upon waking. Hinata could use him, just a little bit.

For Hinata, however, the softness was not enough. He was an affectionate person by nature, and in a different situation he might have lingered against Kageyama’s hand, taking in the feeling of his calloused palms. In that moment, however, he had no time and no patience for it. Hinata was turned on and _hungry_ for this—Kageyama never touched him like this in the real world, _no one_ had for a long time, and he needed the hands resting so lightly against his skin to _move_ , god dammit.

He bit at Kageyama, relishing in the rapid and aggressive reaction he got. Hinata didn’t allow Kageyama’s hand to escape far, lapping away the burn, pleased with the other hand gripping him solidly and the pain-pleasure flashing through Kageyama’s ocean eyes (he’d bring light to those depths yet.) He rewards Kageyama with the press of their bodies, just the slightest taste of what was to come.

Kageyama apparently wasn’t all that used to someone else taking the lead, because the kiss that followed was filthy, making Hinata’s head spin. He didn’t want to breathe, didn’t want to miss a single moment of Kageyama’s lips pushing and pulling against his, petulantly trying to get his way. Hinata allowed this with an exhale, reaching down for Kageyama’s stomach, running deft fingers along the jump and tense of Kageyama’s muscles. His heart rate rose thinking about just how _strong_ Kageyama was, physically, how badly he had Hinata beat, how easily he could overpower him…

Kageyama sucked _hard_ on Hinata’s bottom lip, and Hinata moved with him, pushing their hips together roughly, all senses merging into a single bright point of pleasure. When he came down from that high, Hinata shakily tried to express, tried to get across just how good that was, when he remembered _this is a dream. This is not **your** Kageyama_.

Dream-Kageyama had none of Hinata’s hesitation, ruthlessly grabbing at his other side and grinding down again. Hinata decided _fuck it_ with little deliberation, making for Kageyama’s mouth again. They fought for supremacy in their rhythm with snarls and shoves and clacking of teeth, all coming to a head when they synchronized, gasps elicited from both.

Kageyama pushed him back after going at his neck briefly, glaring at Hinata’s shirt with more disdain than it deserved. Hinata wiped the saliva from his cheek, leaning back, baring his body to dream-Kageyama. _It’s okay, it’s okay…it’s okay if he has me like this_ , Hinata thought, wondering at the sparks in Kageyama’s eyes. _It’s not like I’ll have another chance_. Of course, then he had to _tease_ , putting his mouth everywhere but where it was most wanted, breath hot on Hinata’s stomach, making him wriggle unintentionally and breathe harshly, irregularly.

But it was _Hinata’s_ dream, so Hinata was going to get his way. He shoved Kageyama down to lean over him, marveling at how much larger than him Kageyama was, not just in height but in the breadth of his shoulders, the thickness of his muscles…Hinata’s eyes drifted lower and his purpose became clear. He dropped his hips, pressing hard against Kageyama and sliding up his body. Hinata was purposefully slow and torturous, pleased at the way Kageyama’s face contorted, how he bit his lip so hard it _had_ to hurt, giving his partner cause to flip their positions and do as he pleased with Hinata’s body. But then the dream snapped from him with a sudden, uncomfortable jerk, sending Hinata tumbling back into the real world with a start.

It’s awkward to get a boner in front of your roommate, even worse when they’re your co-pilot, _even worse_ when you are psychically connected and have yet to develop a way to _turn it off_. Hinata wakes to the reality that he is turned on, Kageyama is turned on, there’s an awkward, heavy silence suffocating their room, and his lust for Kageyama couldn’t have been projected louder across their link. Hinata freezes, which is convenient, because Kageyama seems frozen too, but then his stupid mouth has to kick in of its own accord, desperate to try and salvage his dignity and their relationship.

_“I-it’s just a natural function of the body, you know!”_

What a stupid, stupid thing to say. Somehow, he had managed to release the tension in the room, even if Kageyama fled almost immediately and it wasn’t until the end of their Ghost Drift lessons that they resolved the situation. But if what Suga-san said was true…

Hinata resists the urge to bury his face in his hands in utter embarrassment and shame. Kageyama had to have felt Hinata’s attraction towards him. As humiliating as that was, at least Kageyama hadn’t acted all that differently around Hinata. It had to be understandable—they were cooped up together for almost the entirety of their day in the base, united by a bond deeper than companionship or even partnership. There were sure to be incidents like this, right? Especially considering how objectively attractive Kageyama was, all reliable confidence and poised strength (at least in battle).

Thinking on it, that was probably what Kageyama had thought too; it was just surprising at first. And now that they could block each other, they wouldn’t have to worry about any awkward, unconscious fantasies. Hopefully. Hinata brightens at this prospect, bouncing past Koushi, who had been side-eyeing him with only the slightest hint of concern. Upon seeing the newbie pilot’s change in mood, Koushi relaxes, shaking his head.

That kid was oblivious.

               

\--------------

 

“ _Uwaaa!_ ”

Hinata’s exclamation covered pretty much the entire group’s reaction upon stepping out onto the base’s private beach. Extending out for many miles, the beach was used for military drills, varied Jaeger rescue drills, and most importantly, as a place for members of the base to relax and take a well-deserved break from their high-stress occupations. It wasn’t anything fancy—a few hammocks and shacks set up manually by those people who came often, and endless beach from there, but also…

“A volleyball net?” Kageyama murmurs, perking up immediately when he spots the telltale shape farther down the beach.

“You fancy yourself a game of beach volleyball?” Daichi asks, rubbing his hands together and grinning. He claps Kageyama on the back. “I’m not terrible—I used to play a little in my neighborhood.”

Kageyama raises an eyebrow in challenge. “I went to Shiratorizawa, the national champions for five years running, on a volleyball scholarship. I played as their main setter for two years.”

“Well, sounds like I’ll just have to knock you down a few pegs. Wrangle up a team and we’ll have a go at it,” Daichi replies, undeterred. Kageyama returns the grin with a confident smirk, looking immediately for Hinata.

Unfortunately, the red-headed whirlwind is already halfway down the beach, running full speed after Nishinoya with Tanaka in pursuit, as if the three were caught up in some bizarre game of tag. There’s yelling and jumping and eventual tackling of one another into the sand, leaving Kageyama to wonder if he should reconsider selecting his partner as a teammate, even if he did have past experience in volleyball.

A hand settles on his shoulder. “I’ll join your team, if you wouldn’t mind having me,” Koushi says, nodding towards the three idiots farther out. “Let’s head over to meet up with the rest of our group, then we’ll show Daichi what for, hmm?” Kageyama nods sharply, smirk growing even wider and follows the veteran, heads together to work on strategy.

They slowly catch up with the three who had run ahead. Kageyama and Koushi drift into conversation with Saeko and Michimiya while Daichi takes pity on Asahi, who had been left to struggle with dragging both of the coolers through the sand. As if sensing his lab partner’s distress, Noya whips his head around to see Asahi dipping his head in sheepish gratitude for Daichi’s assistance. Noya abandons Tanaka and Hinata to their wrestling and takes off back toward Asahi, snatching back one of the coolers. He yells something along the lines of “it’s for the Marshal and sensei!” before tugging the beers swiftly in the direction of one of the few stable-looking shades.          

Under the shade, three figures gradually take clearer shape once the group arrives. Shimizu brightens when she sees Saeko and Michimiya in the greatest display of emotion Kageyama has ever witnessed from her. She runs over to the girls and grabs their hands gently, a pretty smile on her face, instantly joining in the babble of ‘how have you been’s?’ and ‘I love your swim suit’s’. Takeda-sensei greets them with his usual friendly expression and a wave, wearing a hat and light clothing. Marshal Ukai, on the other hand, has his arms crossed over his chest, a serious expression across his face. The pilots stiffen up, even Tanaka and Hinata looking a little subdued.

It’s strange enough to see the most important military official at their base shirtless and wearing swim trunks, but to have him fixing them with his trademark stern gaze while sans said shirt is completely unnerving. Nishinoya, in his own typically oblivious manner, marches right up to the Marshal with the cooler, grinning. “Ukai-san, I brought the goods!” he declares, elbowing his superior in the side.

The younger pilots and Tanaka hold their breath while Asahi reaches towards Noya with a strangled noise, but then the Marshal breaks into a smile and ruffles Noya’s hair fondly. “Oh, really now Nishinoya? Last time you brought me that undrinkable cheap shit. I’ll kick your ass if it isn’t good.” Ukai opens the cooler and crows in delight, Takeda also making noises of appreciation. The assembled let out their breaths, Daichi and Koushi exchanging glances and grins at their juniors’ anxiety.

“There’s more where that came from,” Daichi adds, dragging his cooler under the shade. The Marshal slaps him hard enough on the back that even Daichi has to cough.

“’Atta boy, Sawamura. I didn’t come out here to be sober and official. Oi,” he says, turning to the newbie pilots and the scientists. “That means you, too. Save all this properness and respect for when we’re actually wearing clothes. Drink and have a good time; god knows Takeda and I don’t care about rank right now.”

Ukai’s words are enough to set the assembled back into motion. Daichi calls for a volleyball game, gathering the interest of several of the team members; Kageyama pulls Hinata to his side and explains to him their strategy, automatically assuming they’ll be put on the same side of the net; Tanaka, who is only vaguely familiar with the rules, yells for a three-on-three with himself as judge; and Koushi fixes Daichi with a challenging smirk, throwing an arm around Kageyama and Hinata’s shoulders. Nishinoya is intrigued by the game, tugging on Asahi’s arm to get his attention.

“Asahi, Asahi, let’s join Daichi’s team!” his eyes gleam, excited by the challenge.

“Ah, but Noya…I don’t know a thing about volleyball,” Asahi says. He hadn’t played much, even just for fun. “How would I even play?”

Noya regards him thoughtfully. “Well, you’re pretty tall—definitely taller than me or Daichi—so you’d be the ace spiker, I guess?” He nods after a moment of looking Asahi over. “Yep, definitely with a build like yours.”

“Ace s-spiker?” Asahi repeats, anxiety increasing. “That’s such a high-pressure position! I’d never be able to handle it!”

“Bah,” Noya disregards his lack of confidence with a wave of his hand. “Jump high and don’t worry about the blockers—I’ve been told my receives aren’t half bad for someone who’s never played on a real team a day in their life. I’ll make sure to watch your back, so just leave it to me!” He gives Asahi a thumbs-up and a wink, trotting back over to Daichi to announce both himself and Asahi as Daichi’s team members.

 _Please don’t decide things all on your own!_ Asahi silently pleads, even though Nishinoya’s declaration had warmed him a little. He doesn’t feel particularly confident in his ability as a spiker, but it’s a comfort to have Nishinoya on his side anyway.

With the two teams settled and dashing off to set up the boundaries of the ‘court’, the rest of the party make for their own activities. The sun is still boiling even though they’ve missed the hottest part of the day—Ukai hustles Takeda and his fair skin beneath an umbrella, Takeda laughing good-naturedly at his friend’s pestering and grabbing a couple drinks for both of them on the way. They set up matching beach chairs, Takeda pulling out a novel he hadn’t found time to read yet and slapping at Ukai when he goes to check his phone with routine worry for the state of Japan. Ukai shoots Takeda a pacifying smile, pulling out reading glasses and a book of his own, nudging the head scientist with his elbow. Takeda huffs, satisfied, and they lean into each other a little, painting a tranquil and surprisingly domestic scene for two immensely important men.

“Gross,” Tsukishima mutters. Yamaguchi flinches at his insubordination and Ukai glances up at him, coolly terrifying. Tsukishima tsks and backs down immediately, skulking off with Yamaguchi in tow, sullenly murmuring about ‘superhuman hearing.’

The girls pay no mind to the heat of the sun, shedding their outer clothing amidst conversation, leaving everything except sunglasses and hats under the main shade. Shimizu and Saeko are excited to finally get a chance to go to the beach, both heavily occupied with work all the time. The ocean makes Michimiya a little nervous, but Saeko takes her hand with an amused and understanding smile, leading her past the breakers. They wander out to waist-deep water, chatting amiably amongst themselves. Shimizu splashes the two with uncharacteristic playfulness once they’re safe from waves, causing Michimiya to gasp at the cold and Saeko to narrow her eyes at the challenge. The girls dissolve into giggling and splash fights, watched with envy by Tanaka and Nishinoya.

They are quickly distracted by the volleyball game that springs up, however. Unsurprisingly, Kageyama and Hinata are already taking the game too seriously, trash-talking Daichi and Asahi (who is stuck flailing a little without Noya’s support) while Koushi eggs them on with a mischievous grin. Tanaka plants his chair firmly between the two sides of the net along the sidelines, crossing his arms and attempting to look official.

“Ryuu, you look like a thug!” Noya laughs, running back to his own side and vaulting off of Asahi, throwing himself in the air.

“Shaddup, Yuu!” Tanaka growls defensively. “Oi, Team Trash Talk and Team Kaiju Brains, get in position already! I don’t have all day!”

“Team Kaiju Brains…” Asahi murmurs despairingly.

They decide to play by the usual volleyball rules—or as well as they can—for two to three sets. _It’ll only be two sets_ , Kageyama thinks as he’s up to serve. _Hinata and I will make sure of that_. His service ace is a little wobbly and not as well-aimed as he would have liked, but not half bad for having not played seriously in years. Koushi and Hinata whoop in excitement as the ball slams into the sand and Noya chases after it. Hinata’s jumps, too, are nothing to scoff about—even in the sand, Hinata can jump higher than anyone else, launching his small form into the air with the ecstasy of someone who truly loves the sport.

Asahi and Nishinoya are amateurs, for sure, but they perform annoying well, especially together. Asahi has true power in his swing, and with his height, he’s able to meet the shorter opposing side head on. When they are able to block him, Noya is always there, able to keep the ball in the air over half the times he connects, although the rebound doesn’t have a terrific trajectory. Worse yet, Noya is never down about any points lost, holding his side together with his constant flow of energy and optimism.

(Through all of this, of course, Tanaka gets gradually more and more invested in the game, screaming at both sides for a ‘crappy receive’ or a ‘spineless spike’, to the point where he spends the same amount of time judging and keeping score as he does getting into yelling matches.)

But what Kageyama and Hinata truly forgot to take into account were Daichi and Koushi. Amused by the seriousness of their peers, the veterans were taking it easy emotionally. Spikes or serves that were blocked or received didn’t faze them; their own performance and the performance of their teammates also didn’t faze them. And curiously enough, whenever there was some kind of attack carried out by either Daichi or Koushi, the other mysteriously seemed to know exactly what was going on and successfully block them.

“Ah, my bad,” Daichi said with the shrug of one shoulder.

“I must be too transparent,” Koushi apologized, rubbing the back of his head.

Kageyama figures it out when Daichi isn’t even fooled a little bit by Hinata’s decoy jump. “You two!” he sputters, eyes wide with shock. “You’re just letting this happen!” He says, pointing at Daichi and Koushi, standing close together, even when they’re on opposite sides of the net.

“What are you talking about?” Koushi asks, feigning innocence.

“You’re using the Ghost Drift to read each other’s moves! You aren’t even trying to hide it or shield your minds!” Kageyama explains helplessly.

Daichi and Koushi exchange glances. “Were we doing that, Daichi? I can’t quite recall.”

Asahi has to hold back a furious Noya from charging at Daichi, narrowly avoiding his flailing elbows and fists. “Let me at ‘im, Asahi! He deserves it for betraying us to Suga! Curse the day those two met!” Noya shouts at the still innocent-looking couple. Asahi tries in vain to placate his lab partner.

“Suga-san…why…” Hinata sobs, throwing himself on the ground. “It’s the end of the third set and everything…”

Daichi and Koushi laugh. “Sorry, sorry, we’ll take this seriously now,” Koushi apologizes for them, still snickering as they take up their respective spots along the net. Tanaka just shakes his head, muttering something about gross married couples. For the rest of the game, locked in deuce, the teams alternated begging Daichi or Koushi to try and care more about the match.

“Suga-san, please try not to laugh when Daichi receives your spike.”

“Daichi, you can’t be lazy on the block just ‘cause Koushi’s a little bit shorter than you!”

“Um…Suga-san…Daichi knew exactly who you were tossing too…”

“Dammit Daichi! That was _so_ intentional! Stop smirking about it! For god’s sake Asahi, _let me at him!_ ”

In the end, they tossed in the towel, calling it a tie and ejecting Daichi and Koushi from the game. The veterans go with matching smiles, Daichi’s arm slung around Koushi’s shoulders and Koushi’s arm wrapped loosely around his waist. They’re still smirking as they return to their belongings, Daichi running to fetch them drinks. Koushi wipes the sweat from his face with a towel—sure, he may have let Daichi read him like a book, but he had still put in a lot of effort, despite what the rest of their team thought. When he removes the towel, he’s met with Daichi offering him a cold water, which he takes and chugs gratefully.

They watch for a while as the remaining four mill around dejectedly until Tsukishima and Yamaguchi reappear from wherever they wandered off to. The rookie pilots are immediately assaulted by Noya and Hinata, desperate for a ‘proper’ rematch. Tsukishima balks, of course, but Yamaguchi agrees to play with a secretive smile that widens when Tsukishima caves with loud exhale. Koushi wanders out from the shade, leaning against one of its wooden posts to watch the new game, Yamaguchi replacing him on Kageyama and Hinata’s team and Tsukishima replacing Daichi on Nishinoya and Asahi’s team.

Daichi mimics Ukai’s earlier action of hustling his partner into the shade, bumping Koushi from his comfortable spot and toward the second umbrella just past the Marshal and Takeda, who were also peering out at the game, mildly amused. Koushi allows himself to be shoved along, flinching from the cold touch of the beers Daichi grabbed along with the water. “I’m going, I’m going,” Koushi laughs lightly.

“You better be,” Daichi grumbles. “You’re so fair-skinned, I worry even that umbrella won’t be enough to shield you from the sun.” Daichi hands the bottles to Koushi, taking the large towel from his shoulder and spreading it out under the umbrella’s shade. Koushi climbs onto it delicately, brushing the sand from his feet in order to keep their small refuge clean. Daichi sits right down, careless of any excess sand flicking onto their towel.

Koushi rolls his eyes. “You oaf,” he tuts, brushing the sand away himself. Daichi grins and snatches a beer from him, opening it with his teeth in a way that makes Koushi wince in sympathy with dentists everywhere. “A barbarian, too. And here I thought my partner was supposed to be a handsome gentleman.”

“Handsome?” Daichi repeats, raising an eyebrow playfully. Koushi flushes despite himself, careful to keep a hold of his control across the Drift. Koushi punches at his shoulder and Daichi laughs. “I get it, I get it; you can’t resist my charms.” Koushi punches his shoulder harder, Daichi lifting his hands in surrender. “Alright, I’ll leave you be. Here, let me.”

He opens Koushi’s bottle too, handing it back to him as a peace offering. Koushi sniffs in reproach and takes a large sip, refusing to look at his partner. He focuses instead on the volleyball game, already in full swing, and Tanaka, out of his ‘referee’ seat and gesticulating wildly at the players. Tsukishima is moving as little as possible, trying to be as standoffish as he can manage—fortunately for him, he’s significantly taller than the opposition so he can get away with slacking off. Yamaguchi is alternating smiling and pinching his face in concentration, obviously enjoying himself.

Koushi flinches at the feeling of a cold substance on his back. He whips around to find Daichi with sunscreen in his hands, giving Koushi a significant look. “Daichi, I don’t need—” Koushi starts, but Daichi cuts him off.

“Oh no you don’t. You _cannot_ give me that argument when last time you came back looking like a lobster. You were miserable and you peeled for weeks; I am _not_ letting that happen again. Turn back around,” Daichi insists, leaving no room for argument. Koushi surrenders easily enough, unable to come up with a counterargument.

Despite his sternness, Daichi is gentle and thorough in rubbing the sunscreen into Koushi’s skin. Koushi has always enjoyed Daichi’s hands, in one way or another, and they are pleasantly warm and strong, even in the late afternoon heat. Koushi melts a little and forgives Daichi for his teasing, leaning into him as Daichi moves from his lower back to his shoulders and upper arms. Koushi bites back a noise at the cold of the sunscreen and Daichi’s hands near his neck, soothing and intimate, but he’s completely unable to stop the goosebumps running along his skin.

Daichi’s hands run down his arms too, even though they both know how unnecessary it is. Koushi allows him to reach all the way down to the top of his hands, leaning his head into the crook of Daichi’s neck.

“You’re alright to do the rest of it, right?” Daichi asks, and god, why was his voice suddenly so low and deep? Koushi makes a muffled noise in the affirmative, taking the sunscreen bottle from Daichi to rub it into his chest, stomach, and legs. He’s not surprised to find that it doesn’t feel nearly as nice.

Daichi’s putting on some of a lower SPF himself, tan as he is. Koushi offers to get his back and Daichi accepts. If Koushi has to hold his breath a little, running his fingers along the muscles of Daichi’s back for a little too long, well, no one has to know. When he finishes, Koushi dabs a little excess sunscreen onto Daichi’s nose with a playful grin. Daichi meets his eyes only for a moment before falling back and knocking over Koushi. His partner squawks in surprise, but before he can sit back up, Daichi has Koushi’s sunscreen and is pinning him down, a glob of the stuff already in his hand.

“No, Daichi, don’t,” Koushi tries to get out, laughing as Daichi’s hand gets menacingly closer to his face. Daichi doesn’t stray from his trajectory even as Koushi squeezes his eyes shut. Daichi swipes two battle stripes under Koushi’s eyes, dabbing the rest all over the remainder of his face and rubbing it in, too, despite Koushi’s constant stream of giggles.

“You missed some,” Koushi says, once Daichi stops touching him.

Daichi regards the stripes the same way he usually regards Koushi when his partner doesn’t know he’s looking: thoughtfully. Koushi’s still blushing a little bit, squinting up at Daichi with a fond smile stretched across his face, arms relaxed over his head, fully trusting Daichi. It’s the same look, the same position he ended up in when they used to spar, back before they were pilots. It’s the trust that made Daichi certain Koushi was the perfect one for him. Daichi rubs a thumb across Koushi’s cheek gently, smearing the sunscreen.

“Daichi?” Koushi murmurs, whisper soft, noting the look of affection settled deep on Daichi’s face.

He doesn’t say anything to that—truthfully, he wouldn’t know what to say, he’s feeling more than he’s thinking right now—but smears the other cheek too, rubbing the lotion in. Koushi’s eyes are clear and his expression just a little confused, but he does not stop Daichi.

“Suga…” Daichi starts, that feeling compelling him to speak.

The resounding _smack!_ of a hand connecting with a volleyball snaps them from their moment. Daichi and Koushi whip their heads toward the volleyball net in time to see the ball hit the ground hard enough to bounce, a look of pure shock on the faces of Noya’s team. There’s a beat of dead silence before the opposite side of the net breaks into cheers, Tanaka alongside them.

“Holy shit! What the hell was that?!”

“Kageyama, Hinata…that was incredible!”

“ _YES!_ ”

“Hinata…how…”

Kageyama looks from his hands to Hinata’s red hand in shock. “Hinata, how were you able to hit that toss?” he demands.

Hinata cocks his head to the side, regarding his partner curiously. “I don’t know? You just told me to close my eyes and trust you. I could feel what you were going to do through the Drift and I just…swung.”

Kageyama closes his eyes for a moment, swallowing. When he opens them again, Hinata looks vaguely worried. “What’s the big deal? It worked didn’t it?”

“Hinata…” Kageyama starts, almost laughing at the absurdity. “Hinata, _no one_ at Shiratorizawa has ever been able to hit that toss. That’s the one the senpai always yelled at me for tossing. I’ve never—not even Ushijima-san could—” Kageyama feels a bit like crying.

“I don’t understand what the big deal is,” Hinata mutters. “Although, it _is_ pretty cool that I can spike a ball that Ushiwaka can’t.”

“We would have been an amazing duo if we had gone to the same high school,” Kageyama murmurs. “We’d have been unstoppable.” Hinata feels Kageyama’s regret across their bond and has to resist the urge to reach out to him in comfort.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Nishinoya breaks in. “That’s a pretty wild spike, but I think I could receive it.” he sticks his tongue out in concentration.

“Cut it out with all that shoujo manga bullshit,” Tsukishima adds, rolling his eyes. Even Asahi looks ready for the next volley.

 _Right, we have a match to win_ , Kageyama thinks, shifting back into position. _Hinata may not have been on my team then, but he’s here now_.

“Bring it on!” Hinata yells, speaking for his entire team.

 

\----------------

 

“Let’s go for a walk,” Daichi suggests, after Hinata’s team wins their fourth match, the second win overall to the rival team’s one.

“Hmmm?” Koushi hadn’t really been paying attention, lazily leaning against Daichi’s side. “Oh. I guess the sun will start setting soon, huh?”

Daichi nods. “We can walk over to the overlook before it gets dark, if you want.”

Koushi yawns. “That sounds nice. I’m in.” Daichi stands up, leaving Koushi to flop across their towel while he packs up.

“Get up before I make you into a burrito,” Daichi threatens once their belongings have been gathered, poking Koushi with his toe. Koushi grins at the mental image Daichi is projecting across the Drift, but stands up without complaint, folding the towel himself. They drop everything off under the shade, passing the girls and Yamaguchi.

Saeko and Michimiya are still sunning themselves in the weakening sunlight, trying to soak in the last sun rays of the day. Shimizu, having appropriated Michimiya’s large straw hat, is flipping through a hefty looking book on Jaeger pilot biographies. She nods at the veterans, Koushi stopping only to pull the earphones from a sleeping Michimiya’s ears, clicking his tongue and scolding his friend. He settles her iPod safely amongst her belongings. Shimizu and Daichi exchange knowing looks.

Yamaguchi, who had excused himself from the game after the third match—replaced by Tanaka—reclines comfortably in Takeda-sensei’s chair, commandeered after the older men returned to the base. Remarkably, Yamaguchi has Tsukishima’s headphones fit snugly over his head and is thumbing through his partner’s phone, mouthing the words to some song. He doesn’t notice the veterans pass him, but they smile at him nonetheless. Apparently Tsukishima _did_ have a heart.

The rest of the gathering veto another match, opting instead to go splash around in the water before the sun goes down. Kageyama and Hinata race each other out, Hinata diving in at the last second to beat Kageyama. When he surfaces they instigate yet another argument, ending in Hinata leaping at Kageyama to pull him under the water. Kageyama dodges with a yelp while Tanaka doubles over with laughter, making his way out more slowly. Asahi, like Michimiya, eyes the ocean with concern.

“I don’t know, Noya…” he murmurs. “The kaiju come from the ocean, don’t they,” he adds in as smaller voice. Nishinoya shakes his head, smiling in understanding.

“Nope! The kaiju come from the Breach, a pathway between dimensions. That connection could have been at the top of the mountain, in the sky, wherever. It just happened to be the ocean. So you don’t have to be scared, alright?”

Asahi steps out a little farther, jumping at a particularly large wave that splashes his knees. Noya coaxes him out with hands at his elbows, talking in a steady stream, low and comforting. The anxious furrow of Asahi’s brow smooths out to only vague wariness, a smile playing at the edges of his mouth at Noya’s words. It’s strange, Koushi thinks, watching them a little bit. Whenever Asahi truly feels uncomfortable, especially where the kaiju are concerned, Noya doesn’t hesitate to throw away his excitable and over-the-top personality in order to make Asahi feel more comfortable. For someone as devoted to learning about the kaiju as Nishinoya, it couldn’t have been easy to accept the deep fear ingrained into Asahi’s mind, but he handles it with more skillfulness than Koushi would have ever thought possible.

Daichi touches Koushi’s elbow, nodding in the direction of the rocky outlook, only a tiny blur in the distance from where they’re standing. “C’mon,” he murmurs, following Koushi’s gaze to where Noya has eased Asahi into the water up to his waist.

Koushi trails after Daichi, pulling alongside him as they stroll across the beach, hands and arms brushing every few steps because of how closely they walk to each other. Koushi trudges through the ebb and flow of the tide, watching the small waves wash over his bare feet. A little farther up the shore, Daichi is not touched by the water, but he smiles at Koushi’s shuffling splash.

Daichi smiles at Koushi a lot.

He smiled at Koushi when sparred for the first time, when they officially met, when they were declared Drift compatible, and when they first stepped into a Jaeger together, side by side. He smiled at Koushi when they Drifted for the first time, when Koushi woke up in a hospital, when they piloted Apocalypto Alpha, and after Koushi chased the R.A.B.I.T. Daichi smiles at Koushi whether he’s happy or sad, sleepy or excited, looking or not.

Daichi loves Koushi more than he’d ever expected to. It had been too late for him when he checked his staff against a pale, shining silver boy all those years ago, and Koushi had looked up at him with laughter in his eyes, saying _you got me_. Wrong, wrong, wrong. Daichi had won the fight, but Koushi made off with his heart. They were paired together, in the end, and Daichi wasn’t sure whether he wanted to cheer or cry.

He was thankful every day that the Ghost Drift, as spectacular a connection as it was, could be manipulated and twisted to hide those thoughts and feelings that Daichi only allowed to plague him at night when it was too dark to see Koushi’s form in the light from his alarm clock. Daichi knows that Koushi loves him, as Koushi loves most everyone; he’s felt the affection and devotion Koushi allows to slip across the Drift, seen it in his smile.

The problem is that the love Koushi gives and gives isn’t what Daichi desperately wants from him. He treasures every ripple of adoration from his partner, but Daichi is selfish—he wants it all to himself. Koushi won’t ever love him in mind, body, and soul like Daichi does him. They will stay for quite literally the rest of their lives co-pilots and best friends, nothing more. Daichi has accepted this as much as he can, and it’s not so bad of a consolation prize—Koushi touches him and allows Daichi to touch him like he never would if Daichi didn’t shield his feelings.

Daichi has tried, oh, how he has tried, to provoke some kind of reaction from Koushi. He’s changed in plain sight, teased Koushi to blushing, curled up close with him more times than he can count and yet…nothing. Koushi hardly lets across a flicker of any emotion besides contentedness and boundless platonic love for his partner. Along the way, Daichi has managed to make this the norm, this flirting, and sometimes Koushi plays along, but it’s frustrating to know that it’s one-sided.

At the very least, Daichi supposes, Koushi will not leave him for another. When he brought it up, that one time, Koushi had soundly assured him he would never find a romantic partner. Their Ghost Drift hadn’t been strong, back then, but it was strong enough that Daichi instantly believed his sincerity. Of course, if Koushi were to suddenly change his mind, Daichi would not have the heart to stop him, no matter how it hurt.

His eyes hardly stray from Koushi as they walk toward the rocks looming in the distance, now larger and more defined. One of Koushi’s hands comes up to rub his neck, his smile deepens at some thought, and Daichi can’t look away, heart in his throat. In the fading sun, Koushi doesn’t even look human—silver hair turned gold, the soft white of his skin a warm yellow. His eyes are half-lidded and Daichi stutters in his step because Koushi is really, _really_ beautiful. Daichi has catalogued every person he’s met, every model on every magazine he’s read, every actor on every show he’s watched, but still no human on earth is quite as beautiful as his Koushi.

It’s at times like these that Daichi really gets frustrated with Koushi. Daichi doesn’t want their hands to brush; he wants to hold Koushi’s hand, twine their fingers and arms together so that they walk shoulder to shoulder. Daichi wants to kiss up and down Koushi’s neck, hold his face as if his partner were something fragile; Daichi wants to be able to turn at any time to peck Koushi on the cheek or the nose or the forehead or on his beauty mark. It hurts that he can see them falling into that kind of relationship so easily, like they were born for each other. He wants to feel Koushi’s bare chest and the warmth of his body spooning Daichi and if their hips fit together just so…

It’s really not fair that Daichi can’t do those things with Koushi, because honestly, who could possibly ever know him better than Daichi? Daichi knows every part of him, loves every part of him. Daichi was there in the Drift when Koushi was forced to reveal his memory of the death of his family and friends—Daichi had stubbornly begged and bargained and fought with the base’s top officials to _keep Koushi, please, he’s the best out of all of them; he just needs help, **please**_. He was there when Koushi woke up, he comforted , he helped him to get the treatment he needed, and the whole time, all Daichi can remember thinking was _please get better Koushi; I don’t want to ever see you hurt again_.

When Koushi chased the rabbit, Daichi caught him after their Drift severed. More intense than the brief blip of a memory, Daichi saw and felt everything that Koushi did. The numbness, the denial…it was all so real, even after extensive therapy, that all Daichi could do was hold on to Koushi tightly until the techs and the nurses came, practically ripping Koushi from his grip because Daichi couldn’t let him go. He’d seen Koushi survive and heal and hurt. It killed him inside to know how imperfect and flawed Koushi believed himself to be. Koushi looked after everyone, spread endless love to all he came into contact with, but even on good days when Koushi believed in everyone 120%, he only believed in himself 70%.

So Daichi made a resolution to stand by Koushi, through thick and through thin. No matter how much Koushi may tire of him, Daichi would not leave his side, not while Koushi was still healing, fixing himself a little bit every day. Daichi would be a shelter or a shoulder to lean on, but he knew and loved Koushi far too well to imagine his partner was getting better for him. His job was to support Koushi, to make sure he knew there were still reasons to heal.

Daichi would take this relationship and the moments that came with it. He can hold out a hand, climbing up the path to the outlook, and Koushi will grasp it, trusting Daichi to pull him up the last steep incline. He can even wrap Koushi in a tight hug, huffing “we made it!” into the side of his neck, making his partner laugh good-naturedly. They can stand shoulder to shoulder, watching the sun set across the ocean, a steady breeze kicking up and ruffling their hair.

“What are you thinking about?” Koushi asks, eyes bright and curious.

“You,” Daichi replies, seeing no reason why he should lie.

Koushi laughs at his blatant honesty. “Oh really? What about me? All good things, I hope.”

“Yeah,” Daichi says, smiling softly. “I could never have anything bad to say about you.”

Koushi bumps him. “You get mad when I beat you at board games, though.”

Daichi laughs, loud and full. “Okay, okay, I’ll give you that one. You’re way too damn good during game night, I still think you’re a big cheater.” Koushi pouts, an argument on his tongue, and Daichi thinks about how easily he could lean over, one hand bracing the side of Koushi’s face, and kiss him, stealing the words right from his mouth.

In the end, Koushi doesn’t say anything, trading good feelings with Daichi across their link. Koushi leans over the railing of the outlook, the same position he assumes up on his balcony. Daichi leans back against it, spying a troublesome group of people walking towards the outlook. He snorts, making Koushi look over.

“Looks like our fellow pilots and Tanaka are coming to crash our date,” Daichi says, rolling his eyes.

Koushi makes a thoughtful noise in response. “Better make the most of our privacy, then. Quick Daichi, take me now before anyone can see!” Koushi is grinning.

“I’m pretty sure you have to wait until the second date at least to get to the good stuff,” Daichi counters, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, you’re no fun anymore, Daichi. Who’s this grumpy old man?” Koushi replies, poking Daichi in the side.

“And to think just a few hours ago I was a ‘handsome gentleman’. The times, how they are a-changing,” Daichi teases, making a light dusting of pink tint Koushi’s cheeks.

“Quiet, you,” Koushi stammers, attempting to save face.

Daichi brushes a strand of hair from Koushi’s eyes. His partner looks up at him curiously, unwilling to keep up the pretense of even a fake fight. “Daichi?” he murmurs, real concern leaking into his voice. “You’ve been acting a little off all day, is something wrong?”

“You’re beautiful, Sugawara Koushi,” Daichi says, before he can think better of it. “I don’t think anyone tells you that enough.”

Koushi’s face wastes no time transitioning from ‘soft pink’ to ‘completely crimson’. Thinking back on it, this might have been the first time Daichi had ever outright complimented him on his appearance since they became pilots. “Wh-what…Daichi, _what_ —” Koushi stutters, trying to say anything coherent. Across their bond, Daichi feels part of Koushi that he never knew about shudder, the wall slipping. Koushi’s struggling to keep the barrier in place, even as Daichi automatically plucks at it, amazed that Koushi was able to keep this _something_ so secret that Daichi hadn’t even known it existed.

“ _Don’t!_ ” Koushi pleads, voice high and desperate. Daichi backs off immediately, as if burned. His eyebrows pinch at Koushi’s sudden distress.

“Suga, I…” Daichi starts, hands curling and uncurling at his sides, wanting to comfort his partner in some way. He pulls his mind away from Koushi’s to give him some privacy, but pulls Koushi into a hug, tight with apology. “I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to pry that much.” Koushi lets out a shuddering breath and loops his arms around Daichi. He doesn’t say anything at first.

“It’s not your fault,” he says finally. “I’m just…I’m just a little scared of that.”

Daichi doesn’t like that Koushi feels scared, especially too scared to show _him_ something, but he doesn’t pry. He releases Koushi after a moment, looking him over carefully, but Koushi seems to have recovered. The sun has set by now, and like clockwork, the remaining group catches up to Daichi and Koushi. They’re loud and boisterous, but the distraction is exactly what the veterans need.

“Suga-san! Daichi-san!” Hinata calls excitedly, running up to them, Tanaka hot on his heels. “This place is so pretty! Wah, I wish we had made it in time for the sunset. I bet it was really nice from this outlook.”

“Yeah,” Daichi replies easily, meeting Koushi’s eyes when he turns around. “It’s really something.” Koushi looks down, trying to hide his blush from the others.

“Do you think this place would be good for stargazing?” Hinata asks.

“Is that what you came here for?” Daichi returns, eyeing the rest of the group.

“Yeah! Tsukki knows a ton of constellations, so he can point them out to us,” Yamaguchi jumps in.

“You say that like it was my idea, but you were the one who volunteered me, Tadashi,” Tsukishima mutters, spreading their towel on the ground.

“It’s a good idea,” Koushi says. “Though I wish we had our towel now, too…”

“Have no fear!” Tanaka declares, flourishing their striped towel. “I made sure to grab it for you along the way!” Koushi and Daichi bow politely in thanks.

Tsukishima sets himself up right in the middle of the ground, Yamaguchi close on his left side. Yamaguchi flops onto his back, chatting excitedly with Hinata, while Tsukishima lowers himself with his usual stiff dignity. Kageyama and Hinata, only having Kageyama’s single-person towel (Hinata had dropped his in the ocean and now it was soaking wet), line theirs up next to Tsukishima’s. Kageyama refuses to go near him, but Hinata, excited by the prospect of stargazing, happily curls into Tsukishima’s right side, much to his horror. Tanaka lies on Yamaguchi’s other side, laughing at the pilots’ antics, while Daichi and Koushi lay their towel down a little off to the side but still within hearing range.

While the base isn’t too far from the outlook, it’s still just far enough that light pollution doesn’t interfere with their view of the stars too badly. Fortunately, it’s a clear night, and the incident between Daichi and Koushi is forgotten with the new entertainment of the younger group members’ discussion. Even Tanaka seems amused enough by their bickering to remain quiet.

“…That one’s Scorpio,” Tsukishima mutters reluctantly, gesturing to a cluster of stars.

“Ehhhhhh. Doesn’t look much like a scorpion to me,” Hinata says doubtfully.

“None of them look exactly like what they stand for, dumbass, you have to use your imagination,” Kageyama growls.

“Oh, looks like the king actually has something useful to say once in a while.”

“What was that, you megane bastard?”

“Ugh, stop arguing and tell me more about the constellations! Which one is the crow?”

“If you mean Corvus, it’s right over there.”

“…That definitely doesn’t look like a crow. Well, whatever, it’s the constellation for Karasuno!”

“What are you, stupid?”

“Haha, Kageyama, you’re just jealous Shiratorizawa doesn’t have a constellation!”

“…”

“Wow, that’s really something. And I thought I wouldn’t enjoy this.”

“Why you—”

“Point out another one, another one!”

“Tsukki knows all the zodiac constellations, and a whole bunch of cool ones from mythology!”

“Heh, that’s actually pretty cool! I guess you’re kind of a smart guy after all, Tsukishima!”

“…Not really, this is more of my brother’s hobby.”

The conversation tapers off from arguments into low discussion between Yamaguchi, Tsukishima, and Hinata over the stars. Tsukishima has to repeatedly shove the two on either side of him away, as they continue to lean over him in order to converse in a loud whisper. It’s completely ineffective. And Kageyama, already squished against Hinata because of their tiny towel, objects vociferously to being pushed as a side-effect. Tsukishima resorts to pointing out as many constellations as he can remember in order to keep them distracted. Yamaguchi and Hinata fall for the ploy willingly, Hinata attempting to make sense of the shapes and Yamaguchi throwing in the mythological stories he’s familiar with about the constellations, Tsukishima occasionally adding to or correcting his knowledge.

Kageyama doesn’t join in, really—he prefers to watch with grudging amazement at how Hinata warms up to the Ranger team he had claimed to hate (and in turn, of course, they warm up to him). Yamaguchi and Hinata are fast friends, even teaming up to tease Tsukishima a little bit when he geeks out over a fish-like constellation. Tsukishima, too, has no problem shoving Hinata and Yamaguchi around, although unlike before, his way of handling Hinata is gentler and less antagonistic.

Kageyama thinks back to the drills, too. Tsukishima stood up for them and defended their ability, although he had claimed it was only due to the need to perform at the highest level possible and avoid getting everyone killed. Yamaguchi had also given them brief compliments, exchanged after taking down a virtual kaiju. They didn’t need to go that far, especially not after how they claimed they couldn’t trust Tyrant Omega to watch their backs.

_This is what it means to be a kaiju response team, then. Not even personal grudges should interfere in the unity of our members._

Kageyama knocks his head gently against Hinata’s back. Hinata doesn’t show any physical sign of acknowledging Kageyama, but slight concern flutters across the link at Kageyama’s mental exhaustion. He probably does it subconsciously, but Hinata guides the conversation back to low levels of volume between himself and Yamaguchi, Tsukishima dropping out of the conversation entirely. Hinata must have thought Kageyama was ready to sleep.

It’s not really cold out, but the wind is chilly when it rustles the light clothing of the pilots. Yamaguchi curls closer to Tsukishima, pressing their sides flush together and resting his head on Tsukishima’s arm. Tsukishima only grumbles slightly, ready to fall asleep himself. Hinata mimics Yamaguchi, pulling away from Kageyama and snuggling closer to his once-enemy and resting his chin on Tsukishima’s chest. The blond complains louder about Hinata’s pointy chin driving a hole through him but relents when Hinata shows no sign of moving.

Tanaka rolls his eyes at the trio, crossing his arms behind his head and braving the cold like a man. Kageyama feels strangely awkward, not sure whether he should follow Tanaka’s lead or join the huddle uninvited. The entire situation is bizarre, although Daichi and Koushi are cooing to themselves over how cute the newbies look.

Kageyama’s choice is made for him when he feels a call from Hinata. The summoning is a long, soft ripple of feeling, curling around the edges of Kageyama’s mind. He can feel Hinata’s contentedness—his partner is one of those people who are at their most comfortable when warm and surrounded by the touch of companions. Hinata’s quite happy to steal all of Tsukishima’s warmth, Yamaguchi only a breath away, but Kageyama is more hesitant. He’s never actually had a tactile friendship, and with his troublesome attraction to Hinata…he pauses, unsure.

Hinata calls once again. This time, the ripple is quicker: a petulant demand. Hinata’s back is cold and Tsukishima doesn’t feel familiar enough for Hinata to fall asleep. He wants _Kageyama’s_ touch, _his_ scent, _his_ warmth—and fiercely, too. There’s nothing sexual or perverted in it, just the basic human desire for affection and physical assurance.

That doesn’t mean Kageyama’s heart won’t accelerate at Hinata’s tired honesty. He stills feels like he’s using Hinata’s nature for his own sinister motives, but he scoots closer anyway. Kageyama effectively spoons Hinata, who had turned his head to rest his cheek on Tsukishima. Tentatively, he curls an arm around Hinata’s body, pulling him a little closer to Kageyama’s own body when Hinata hums in sleepy contentment.

Kageyama stretches his other arm out, accidentally poking Tsukishima in the head. He turns to look at Kageyama, fixing him with his trademark blank-but-condescending stare, but doesn’t say a word. They hold gazes for a moment. Tsukishima breaks the stare first, glancing at Hinata and then facing forward again, doing absolutely nothing to discourage Kageyama’s arm placement. Perhaps that was Tsukishima’s way of demonstrating his acceptance of Kageyama.

Kageyama looks to the young man held close to him, too. Hinata acknowledges his heart rate through a flicker of recognition, but doesn’t say a thing about it. Kageyama figures that this night has been strange enough already, it won’t hurt if he follows his own desires a bit, too. He curls his face in the crook of Hinata’s neck and shoulder. Soft orange hair tickles his nose, but Kageyama is too tired to mind. Hinata is a bundle of heat in against his chest and he smells as familiar as home, with only the slightest dilution of salt from the sand and sea.

Besides, Hinata’s heart is beating fast, too.

 

\-------------------

 

Koushi covers his mouth to stifle a giggle when the sounds of heavy breathing and soft snores drift over to him and Daichi from the four younger pilots. Daichi is grinning wide enough to split his face, too. Tanaka shoots them an amused glance, having taken charge of looking after the kids. Surely, they’ll be upset and at each other’s throats when they wake up. But for now, the picture they paint is heartbreakingly precious.

Yamaguchi has worked himself from passively leaning against Tsukishima’s side to having actively cuddled up to him, his head tucked neatly under Tsukishima’s chin, an arm wrapped around his co-pilot. Yamaguchi’s one wayward hair flicks up to brush Tsukishima’s nose, making him scowl in his sleep. Hinata, too, has curled closer to Tsukishima, and as a result, his face is close to Yamaguchi’s, almost beneath _his_ chin. Hinata rests a hand on Yamaguchi’s arm. Kageyama, still clinging tightly to Hinata, has also shifted closer, resting his head on Tsukishima’s shoulder. From what the veterans can tell, it’s a dog pile on Tsukishima. (Tsukishima, for the most part, seems undisturbed by this; one arm is under Yamaguchi and curled around him a little, and the other is presumably sandwiched between Hinata and his own body.)

“They’re so cute,” Koushi whispers to Daichi with a quiet laugh. He and Daichi are close together too, both propped up on their elbows, facing each other. “I wonder who’s gonna wake up first.”

“Oh, it has to be Tsukishima, right? How long is he going to let Yamaguchi’s hair tickle him?” Daichi replies. He shivers. “Although I’m a little envious of how warm they look. Scoot over here, will you?” Daichi gestures for Koushi to come closer.

Koushi rolls his eyes but obeys, scrambling close enough that their legs brush. “If you were gonna get cold, you shouldn’t have given me your jacket,” he tuts.

“Are you kidding me? You had major goosebumps, you just didn’t want to ask me for my jacket,” Daichi counters, hand shooting out to steady Koushi at the hip as he loses his balance a little. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” Koushi responds quietly, having difficulty looking Daichi in the eye. Today had been so strange for him, he felt so unbalanced—not just physically, but mentally too. Daichi’s hand doesn’t move, not that Koushi had expected it to, but the soothing stroke of Daichi’s thumb along his side makes Koushi’s mind go blank.

He sits up abruptly. “I have an idea,” he covers, hiding the true reason for his flight. Koushi shrugs off the jacket, ignoring Daichi’s imploring stare. His heart is aching painfully, throat tight, hands trembling slightly.

He can’t do this. _He can’t._

It’s too much to have Daichi so close, so loving while knowing he doesn’t feel the same way Koushi does. Today proved that, with his little slip-up and all of Daichi’s boundless affection. Koushi has managed for so long but he can’t do it anymore. He’ll break. Their situation has to change. He takes a deep breath.

Koushi settles back down, this time even closer to Daichi than before. Their shoulders and chests brush, and in the dark it’s hard to see Daichi’s face, but Koushi can feel his startled exhale against his cheek. Koushi lays the jacket over both of their bodies, tucking it soundly around Daichi. He doesn’t flinch when he allows his hand to brush longer over Daichi’s arm than he would have normally.

Koushi can’t do secrets. Not with Daichi.

Their breaths even out, still far too close for comfort. Daichi doesn’t say a word to Koushi, but Koushi is alright with that. Neither of them project across the Drift, even when touching. Whatever Daichi is feeling now, he’s keeping it to himself. Koushi lays his head on his arm, relaxing onto his side. The warmth between their bodies is comforting as ever, making him sleepy. Koushi has given his ultimatum.

Eventually, Daichi mirrors him, carefully lying himself down. To Koushi it feels as if Daichi is purposefully trying to avoid touching Koushi more than he already is, but that could also be the mild panic stirring to life in his gut. The kids snore soundly a few meters away, but it feels more like they’re on another continent. Koushi knows that he’s avoiding Daichi’s eyes and that Daichi is staring intently at him. Why, though? It’s not like this is the most strange or outright flirtatious move Koushi has ever made on him.

“Better?” Koushi asks finally, just to stir the silence that’s crushing them. Daichi might have blinked.

“Not quite,” Daichi responds after a moment, his tone not any that Koushi knows, and suddenly, he is filled with overwhelming dread and fear. He makes to pull away, flee, anything to get out—

Daichi seizes his arm before Koushi can even fully turn.

“Dai—” Koushi starts, desperate, but Daichi releases him a second later, only so he can grab his jacket and throw it over their heads.

The darkness startles Koushi, but then there’s a warm, calloused hand cupping his cheek and—

Oh. _Oh._

Daichi’s lips are hot and rough, stealing Koushi's breath away from him. Daichi holds the kiss for a long moment, drawing away from his partner with obvious reluctance. It’s dark and humid under the jacket, but Koushi is grateful for it, in the fleeting way one is grateful that the sun comes up every morning. He can’t even begin to imagine what his face looks like.

“Sugawara Koushi,” Daichi begins, and _god_ , he sounds _broken_. Koushi’s eyes fill with tears just hearing his voice because _has he felt this way all along, too?_

“Sugawara Koushi, I am in love with you,” Daichi says in that same whisper-soft, fragile voice. “I’ve loved you for years. Before we became pilots and after; when we ride together and when we fall asleep on the couch. I am in love with you, I love you.”

Koushi claps a hand over his mouth, but he can’t completely stifle the sob that threatens to tear its way out of his throat, the wail of sorrow and joy he can’t truly contain. Tears are streaming down his face now, for sure. Daichi pulls Koushi’s hand away from his mouth and Koushi lets out a tiny, stuttered gasp. He wants to collapse into Daichi’s arms and never leave.

“D-Daichi,” he stutters, voice thick with emotion. “Daichi, ever since I chased the rabbit, ever since you saved me I…Daichi, I _need_ you, please, I need you more than anyone, _please_ tell me—”

Daichi shushes him and pulls Koushi into a tight embrace, tucking his face into his neck. “I love you Suga, I really, really do. I was so, so afraid to lose you so I never…I need you here with me, okay? I’m not going to leave your side, I love you so much.”

Koushi sinks into him, bonelessly. “All this time…” he whispered. “All this time, I’ve been trying so _hard_ to keep you from feeling anything, from feeling _me_. I didn’t want to lose this, I thought I could be happy—oh, Daichi, I’m so sorry.”

“I love you,” Koushi whispers, voice under control again. “More than anyone else ever, Daichi, I am so very in love with you.”

Daichi pulls the jacket from over their heads, Suga still curled into his arms. They are quiet again, only breaking the silence with the occasional murmured affirmation of affection. Their legs intertwine and Koushi traces patterns along the strong lines of Daichi’s back, only sniffing every now and then.

Daichi loosens his hold on Koushi a little bit, and Koushi glances up at him in mild concern. But Daichi only moves a hand to cup Koushi’s face, stroking his thumb over his partner’s cheek. Koushi’s hand curls into Daichi’s shirt at the look of unrestrained love and devotion in his eyes and Daichi leans in again.

He’s much gentler this time, kissing Koushi lightly and chastely, mapping the shape of Koushi’s lips with his own. Koushi nips at Daichi’s bottom lip absentmindedly, mind too cloudy to really contemplate his actions. Daichi huffs amusedly at Koushi’s impatience. This time, he sucks hard at Koushi’s mouth.

Sensing the change of pace even with his fuzzy mental state, Koushi takes this opportunity to make their simple kissing French. Daichi’s hand tightens against his jaw and Koushi pulls himself closer. Then Daichi’s tongue is in his mouth and Koushi feels like he might cry again, just a little bit. Daichi tastes like beer, but that’s okay because Koushi does too. He laughs at that, ruining the mood, but Daichi only raises an eyebrow fondly.

“The kids are still around,” Koushi murmurs, having somehow hauled his upper body onto Daichi. “And I don’t think Tanaka is asleep either.”

Daichi runs his fingers through Koushi’s hair, eyes half-lidded and a satisfied smile on his face. “Hmm…and yet somehow, I don’t feel inclined to move.”

Koushi rolls his eyes. Well, it’s not like he’s powerless to do something about that.

Koushi leans down, pressing their cheeks flush. “You will soon enough,” he practically purrs into Daichi’s ear, feeling the results of his efforts almost immediately when Daichi stiffens. Koushi draws away, sitting up. His shirt is just the slightest bit too big, and he knows it shows off a terrific view of his collarbone. He knows that Daichi knows this, too.

Koushi holds Daichi’s gaze a little longer, but bedroom eyes can only do so much when they’re not actually in a bedroom. Koushi climbs to his feet, dusting a little sand off of his body and making as if to stroll right on back to base. Daichi caves and follows him almost instantly, grabbing his arm and spinning Koushi around to kiss him on the forehead before jogging ahead, laughing when Koushi has to run to catch up to him.

Tanaka raises an eyebrow at their antics, unnoticed, but doesn’t say anything. It’s not like this development was much of a surprise, after all.

 

\----------------

 

“Why did you lock up our quarters, again?” Koushi asks as Daichi fishes their key out of his swim trunks. Koushi’s given up all pretense of teasing—the run back to the base has worked him up into a little bit of a sweat and his heart is racing. Having Daichi _right in front of him_ , without any barriers stopping him from _finally_ getting what he wants, but not being able to touch him because of _people_ milling around has gotten Koushi in a bit of a fit.

Daichi pulls out the key ring and is thumbing through it for the right key. “We always lock up out of habit, how was I supposed to kn—” He gasps at the feeling of strong, thin fingers pulling up his shirt to trace his back muscles. “Suga, _Jesus Christ_ —“

“Hurry up,” Koushi growls, although it comes out far more breathy and desperate than he would have liked. Daichi finds the key and opens their door, both darting inside. Daichi has barely closed the door when Koushi is on him.

“Off, off,” Koushi _definitely_ growls now, pushing Daichi’s shirt up to his chest in impatience. Daichi obeys, yanking it off from the back and tossing his shirt aside.

“Happy?” he asks with a laugh, fitting his hands to Koushi’s hips and walking him back into a wall, never looking away from his eyes. Koushi hits the wall, back arching a little at the contact and oh yeah, Daichi is definitely into that.

“Very much so,” Koushi whispers. He reaches one hand out, hesitating just before he touches Daichi’s chest. When he does, he exhales shakily, his other hand joining its partner to run along all the bumps and curves of Daichi’s muscles.

“Your heart is beating so fast,” Koushi murmurs, resting one hand flat over Daichi’s heart. Daichi takes that hand, lifting it to rest against his cheek. He cups his hand protectively over Koushi’s.

“It usually is, around you,” Daichi replies softly. Koushi’s eyes close, and he swallows painfully.

“Does this still feel like a miracle to you?” Daichi wonders, looking at the torment on his partner’s face. Koushi nods once, jerkily. Daichi releases his hand to take the sides of Koushi’s face instead. He presses their foreheads and noses together, resting like that a while.

“I’m here,” Daichi confirms. “This isn’t some twisted fantasy. I’m here, you’re here—and neither of us is going anywhere. Well, except maybe to the bedroom.”

Koushi laughs at that, giving Daichi a fond peck on the lips. “Then I guess there’s no reason to be standing around, hmm?” Koushi pushes off from the wall, taking Daichi by the hands and walking backwards into their shared bedroom, his smile slipping from grateful and tender into something darker and more intense with the change in lighting.

As the main team, Daichi and Koushi have a bedroom with a full-size window instead of the tiny porthole in the ‘living room’ that the other pilots have. Typically, it serves as a source of comfort and pleasure to look out of at night for both Daichi and Koushi, but with the moonlight streaming in and lighting upon Koushi’s fair skin, it does something completely different.

That feeling stirs inside of Daichi when Koushi lets go of him, taking a few steps further into the light. He’s ethereal and untouchable like this; his expression is neutral, but his eyes are dilated far too wide for him to be feeling impartial. Koushi crosses his arms and pulls his own shirt off—the words ‘strip tease’ immediately come to Daichi’s mind—but Daichi is frozen by Koushi’s beauty. He takes a few steps forward when Koushi rubs his arms, looking colder without his shirt.

Daichi’s fingers alight on Koushi’s thinner shoulders. All of his body is slim and almost feminine, but Daichi knows this body. He knows how it feels to throw his own weight against Koushi when they’re sparring, knows that Koushi can match him in power. Koushi has strength under that light skin and pretty face. Daichi’s mirrors Koushi’s actions from earlier, running his hands hard down Koushi’s arms, chest, stomach, sides. He fits his hands to Koushi’s hips again, comfortable there.

It’s really not enough.

Daichi sinks to his knees, pulling Koushi closer to him with hands slipping to his lower back. Koushi gasps when the fringe of Daichi’s hair brushes his stomach, muscles tensing. Daichi presses kisses to his stomach, to his hipbones, to the wispy hairs below his navel…

“Daichi…” Koushi starts, voice weak. “Daichi you don’t have t-to,” he tries to explain.

“I _want_ to,” Daichi rumbles, confident. He rubs his thumbs right below the waistband of Koushi’s swim trunks, feeling the goosebumps rise along his partner’s bare skin, the tremors of his body.

“But Daichi, I’m…”

Ah. So there it is again. Daichi knows it without even needing the Ghost Drift to tell him. Those feelings of worthlessness Koushi struggles with—Daichi wants to erase every last one.

“Suga,” he commands, drawing Koushi’s eyes to his. Daichi stands, nudging Koushi towards his bed. Koushi allows this, somewhat confused. He allows Daichi to push him back onto the bed, to crawl on top of him and straddle his waist. “Suga,” Daichi repeats. “Don’t say a word.”

“Wh—” Koushi starts, instinctively, and Daichi presses a finger to his mouth.

“Not a word.” Koushi consents with a small nod.

Satisfied, Daichi sits back. “Sugawara Koushi,” he begins for the second time that night. “You are the single most beautiful and compassionate person I have ever come across in my life. You nurture the other pilots. You smile for the world and not for yourself. You take care of my everyday thoughtlessness without batting an eyelash. You give and give and give, without a single thought of expecting something in return.

“You believe in everyone else, even when you can only doubt yourself. And even on the days when I can feel you’re at rock bottom, you greet me with a smile.” Daichi pauses, brushing a finger over Koushi’s bottom lip, bitten in order to keep from speaking. “Suga, what can I or anyone else ever do to repay you?” Daichi asks quietly.

“I’m not—” Koushi breaks in.

“You _are_ ,” Daichi interrupts, “the kindest, purest human being. You think somehow that your past defines who you are now, that the trauma you lived through and still struggle with taint the goodness of your soul. Suga, you’re dead wrong.” Daichi kisses him, hard and emotional. “You’re beautiful here”—a kiss to one cheek and then the other—“and here”—a kiss to his forehead—“and here”—to his nose—“and here”—to his chin, his neck, his collarbone, shoulder, inner elbow.

Koushi’s crying steadily again, so Daichi kisses away his tears, too. “I love you so dearly, Suga. Please, this is all I can do for you. Please let me show you how important you are to me.”

Koushi takes a deep breath, brushing away the remainder of tears. “I…yes. Okay. If it’s you, Daichi, I think I’ll be alright.” He musters a tiny, pretty smile, eyes glittering wetly.

“Better than alright,” Daichi assures him.

Daichi kisses him again, this time open-mouthed and hot, dragging Koushi back into their earlier rhythm. He’s languid in the way he sucks Koushi’s lip into his mouth, drawing heavy pants from his partner. Koushi likes the feeling of his tongue in Daichi’s mouth, propping himself up on his elbows and leaning forward to get his way. Daichi strokes along Koushi’s sides, smoothing the shakiness out his body.  
  
Through it all, Daichi slowly loosens his hold on the Ghost Drift. They'd both been subconsciously holding back, ever since Koushi jolted away from him that evening, only to return even closer. But now, the mental assurance and direct connection is what Daichi really needs to get his purest feelings across. He unfurls his end of the bond, reaching out to Koushi as gently and uninvasively as possible. Koushi gasps aloud anyway.  
  
The truth of the matter was that Koushi had spent the majority of his time knowing Daichi concealing his feelings for him. Any shred of attraction or untainted affection was squirreled away deep where no one would find it, not even if they were in Koushi's head. To feel the brush of unadulterated love—and from Daichi at that—was like an electric shock to Koushi's affection-deprived mind.  
  
He shies from the touch at first, Daichi easing him into it. Koushi opens the gates to his mind slowly, only allowing Daichi the slightest peek into his true feelings. Daichi doesn't doubt him, not for a second, but Koushi needs to let go as much as Daichi wants him to. Locking up that amount of emotion is no good for his health and besides, Daichi is here now. They’re bare-chested and pressed close together already, and it’s not as if they’re unfamiliar with the intimacy of sharing each other’s thoughts and emotions. Perhaps it's cheating to help him along, but Daichi is only human, after all.  
  
Daichi digs for his most passionate emotions, showering Koushi in all the times he's felt proud of his partner, all the times his heart has physically swelled because of how wonderful Koushi was and how lucky he was to have him for a partner, all the times he's had the breath knocked out of him because Koushi walked into a patch of sunlight and Daichi swore he saw wings unfurling from his partner's back.  
  
All the times he's woken up, soaked through with sweat and so turned on he couldn't move, the name _'Suga’_ on the tip of his tongue.  
  
Koushi whines, mental walls breaking down. "Filthy cheater," he grinds out, but Daichi is getting little blips from his partner, slipping out along the link. One more push, and Koushi would cave. As if that was an issue.  
  
Daichi meets Koushi's eyes, a mischievous gleam in his. Koushi is immediately wary. "Daichi, just what are you— _ah!_ ” Koushi slaps a hand over his mouth, embarrassed beyond belief, but there's no way he could have stopped himself.  
  
Daichi swirls his tongue around Koushi's nipple once more for good measure, making Koushi switch from covering his mouth to digging his nails into Daichi's back. That's fine; he's had dreams about that, too. Daichi makes sure to show Koushi—in great detail—just how he'd dreamt of him.  
  
In this one, Koushi's back is arched like a cat, Daichi sucking and biting at his neck, sure to leave the largest, most visible mark he can manage. _He's mine_ , Daichi wants to say to everyone, regardless of gender, age, or occupation. _He's mine and there's not a single one of you who will get to lay a finger on him_. Daichi's got a hand around Koushi, working him until he's reduced to practically mewing into Daichi's shoulder, digging his nails deep down Daichi's back—marks of his own. Daichi can hardly see straight, and he's panting hard against _Suga, Suga, Suga oh gods above, I love you Suga, let me show you let me **worship** you—_  
  
The wall collapses.  
  
All at once, Daichi is overwhelmed by the dam break of Koushi's feelings, painful shards of _ache_ for Daichi and resistance, god, so much _resistance._ Koushi had buried down his powerful physical attraction, suffocating the urge to touch Daichi. He’d dreamed about Daichi, too. He had looked at him so often, hungered for his body so deeply that Koushi couldn't even manage to feel embarrassed about it.  
  
And then the Drift. His feelings of hopelessness and the thoughts of no future before him, all shattered by a boy with a stubborn attitude and a confident smile. How _much_ Daichi's efforts to heal him meant. How fast Koushi had slipped from the physical to deep, deep love with his copilot.  
  
Koushi welcomes the return of the Ghost Drift, completely free of lies or secrets. He welcomes the ability to feel Daichi, every inch of his mind and _know him_ , inside and out.  
  
"Let's get down to it then, shall we?" Daichi proposes, low and full of meaning.  
  
"After you, _soldier_ ," Koushi replies breathily, lying back down and throwing his arms over his head. He may have meant it as an attempt to solicit a rise from Daichi, but Daichi wasn't one to let an opportunity like that go.  
  
He slides down Koushi's chest, intent on finishing what he started. He tugs the waistband of Koushi's pants down, pleased to find him already painfully hard. Daichi licks a long line up his shaft, taking all of Koushi in his mouth once he reaches the head.  
  
" _Fuck_ ," Koushi hisses, jolting upright, hands shooting forward to bury his hands in Daichi's hair. He drags his fingers along Daichi's scalp, feeling the shivers of pleasure from Daichi as his ministrations shudder across the Drift.  
  
It's Daichi who realizes first that what they had in the Ghost Drift was effectively a two-way street of desire and sex. He could feel whenever he did something particularly pleasing to Koushi from the tangle and snap of his satisfaction across the link; in the same way, Daichi knows his own shudders and the heat pooling between his legs is being thrust across the Drift to Koushi as well. When he releases a shaking Koushi with a wet _pop_ , he feels rather than hears the soft moan in response, the spikes of pleasure shooting up Koushi's stomach mirrored in his own, until Daichi is sure he'll come before his partner.  
  
 _Incredible._  
  
Daichi goes down on him again, this time projecting his desire to please Koushi, to make him squirm and cry out, to make him _understand_ how essential he is to Daichi, how incomplete Daichi would be without him. He presses his weakness to Koushi across, the way Koushi’s touch and glance has him groveling on his hands and knees, desperate for every moment Koushi spent paying attention to him. He projects how sucking Koushi off like this turns him on more than he’d ever imagined. He projects the feeling of sensing Koushi's own pleasure back onto him.  
  
Koushi wails, falling apart at the seams, and Daichi pulls away just in time. Koushi comes, shaking to bits and fisting his hands in as much of Daichi's hair as he can manage to grab. His hands go limp with the rest of his body a beat after, the slightest trace of saliva along his cheek from leaving his jaw hanging open so long.  
  
When they both come down from the high, Daichi finds that just bearing mental witness to an orgasm was enough to make Daichi come, too. He examines the spot on his swim trunks with interest. Koushi sits up after a moment, watching him in disbelief.  
  
"You...what the _hell_ was all that?" He's not mad—just incredulous and amazed. Koushi's interest has been piqued, too.  
  
"Apparently, having the Ghost Drift means having incredible sex, too," Daichi concludes. "A shame we were never told about this earlier." He looks back up at Koushi, resting his cheek against Koushi’s inner thigh. Koushi’s biting his thumb now, thoughtful.  
  
"So does that mean...if we go all the way..." Koushi flushes red, embarrassed that he’d jumped to conclusions. "Er, not that I’m trying to pressure you or anything! I-I mean, only if you'd want—"  
  
Daichi shoves a pillow in his face and rolls his eyes. "Get out of your bathing suit already, god." Daichi hops off the bed, padding to his nightstand and digging around inside until he finds a condom in one of the drawers. He strips out of his own suit, shivering a little at the temperature of their room.  
  
When Daichi glances behind him, he's greeted by Koushi quite obviously checking out his ass with absolutely no shame. The pillow is situated firmly over his lap, but his suit has been discarded. When Daichi raises an eyebrow, Koushi only shoots him a coy smile.  
  
Daichi is stunned, not for the first time, by how much charisma Koushi has. That man could get away with murder. If he hadn’t been alluring enough already, the content energy emanating from him makes him seem even more impossibly divine. Koushi’s cheeks are still deliciously pink and he smells like familiarity and sex. Shit, they still have a channel between them, don’t they?

Koushi breaks into a real smile, giggling at Daichi’s almost poetic thoughts. He beckons Daichi over, and the man in question rolls his eyes and reaches back inside the drawer, pulling a small container of lube from its depths. He closes the drawer with a slam and turns back to face his partner.

Koushi’s eyes meet his for about two-tenths of a second before they drop down to the less innocent parts of Daichi’s body. His eyes turn sharp and predatory, the hunger rising in him again. Daichi nearly swears aloud. He couldn’t be ready for another round already, could he?

“You really did come prepared, didn’t you, Daichi? I’m impressed—were you really waiting for me for so long?” Koushi murmurs, still not looking away from Daichi’s crotch. He wets his lips with the slightest slip of pink tongue, and Daichi decides that they’re done playing around.

“I was,” Daichi replies, matching Koushi’s low voice. “At first, I had hoped to maybe find a few on again, off again friends to relieve tension with, but then you came along and I couldn’t bring myself to do it.”

“Come here,” Koushi commands, his voice strong. Daichi obeys, tossing their supplies to the side of the mattress. He stands in front of Koushi, whose face is carefully neutral and focused. Daichi brushes his fingers through the strands of Koushi’s silvery hair, turned white in the moonlight. Koushi takes a hold of Daichi’s hips, resting his forehead gently on his abs, breathing quietly.

“I dreamed about this, you know,” Koushi whispers. “Not only at night, but when I was awake, too. You’ve always been so physically strong—I found solace in your sturdiness But even more than that…” He pauses, moving his hands to the dips in Daichi’s lower back, running his fingers down the curve of his ass, pressing hard into the lines of the muscles of his thighs. “More than that, I just wanted to mark you here,” he continues, tapping at Daichi’s inner thigh. “And along your hips, your stomach, anywhere hidden. I wanted to ensure that if you ever took another to bed, they would see those marks and know you didn’t belong to them.”

Koushi’s smile is something fierce and protective. He looks up at Daichi, pulling him closer by his thighs. “Let me mark you? Please?” He requests, the picture of innocence.

“Shit,” Daichi hisses. “I mean—yes. Fuck, of course, let me just—” Daichi climbs onto the bed, Koushi following him close. “How do you wa—”

“Like that,” Koushi breathes, eyes on fire now. “On your knees, like that.”

(Daichi swallows, throat tight. Oh, he’s all turned on again, just from Koushi’s voice.)

Koushi is innocent enough, at first. He peppers kisses to the delicate insides of Daichi’s legs, lapping at his skin occasionally. Daichi thinks he’ll be okay, hands resting on Koushi’s shoulders. Then Koushi nips at him, little flashes of teeth that don’t hurt him in the slightest, but turn his insides to mush and quicken his breathing.

When Koushi grabs a tight hold of his thighs, pressing his mouth to Daichi’s hip and sucking at the skin there, bruising it dark red, Daichi nearly loses his balance. He tightens his grip on Koushi, feeling the shift of his muscles as he changes position in order to get better access. Koushi leaves another, and another; switching between Daichi’s sides, making him dizzy with the spurts of pleasure-pain.

Then Koushi goes for the soft, pale skin of his inner thigh, and Daichi melts, tilting dangerously to one side.

“Steady,” Koushi murmurs, amused. He helps Daichi back up with measured ease and a powerful calm about his mind and manner. Daichi nods when Koushi gives him a questioning look.

Daichi’s not given any respite after that—Koushi is twice as adamant about marking him all over, driving Daichi absolutely crazy. Koushi lights on a sensitive spot, and Daichi cries out.

“Suga, _fuck!_ ” His legs are shaking, his mind is foggy, and Daichi’s far too turned on to care about dignity. “Suga, please, god damn—”

But Koushi purposefully keeps from touching him, even though he notes Daichi’s hardness with a pinky finger run over the length of his dick, expression carefully schooled into one of mild interest. He lights a hand on Daichi’s trembling thigh, a wicked smile spread across his face. Koushi dips down to leave a few more marks on Daichi, but doesn’t keep him waiting too long.

When he slowly leans back one final time, Koushi takes Daichi’s hands from his shoulders, pushing them along his neck, settling the tips of his fingers into the edges of Koushi’s hair. Holding him like that, Koushi dips forward to lick Daichi’s head just once, placing a kiss to the tip, as if in apology for his teasing. He pulls Daichi backwards as he falls, Daichi bracing himself with his elbows on either side of Koushi’s head. The pillow had been thrown to the side ages ago, and Daichi can feel from his position sprawled across his partner that Koushi is in much of the same situation as him.

“It’s rather cruel of me to keep you waiting, isn’t it?” Koushi breathes lightly.

“Damn straight it is,” Daichi concurs, leaning in to kiss Koushi roughly.

Daichi’s gentle with him though, as Koushi knew he would be. When it came down to it, Daichi truly didn’t have a vicious bone in his body, even where sex was concerned. His fingers are _freezing_ , and Koushi nearly jumps a foot in the air when Daichi first touches him, tensing up completely. But Daichi is all soft murmurs and light touches, easing Koushi back into a state of relaxation so that when he slips the first finger in, it’s near painless. Koushi balks a little at the discomfort, but Daichi kisses him as a distraction, occasionally stroking them together when Koushi feels especially pained.

The second goes in easier, although the third is still quite difficult, and Daichi keeps up a steady rhythm between them to keep Koushi’s mind off of the feeling. It’s an effective method—Koushi fists his hands in the sheets, tiny whimpers complementing Daichi’s own whines and whispered praises in Koushi’s ear. But even this, it’s not… “Daichi, Daichi just do it already, you’ve done enough prep,” Koushi begs, before he can think better of it. “It’s not the same, I need—”

Daichi channels his understanding across the Drift. He pulls his fingers out and this time Koushi really does wail, mourning the loss of physical connection with his partner. He probes for Daichi along the link vigorously, practically molding his mind to Daichi’s. Daichi hushes him, and strokes the side of his face with one hand. Leaning back, he tears the condom’s package open with his teeth, fitting himself with its contents. Koushi’s heart beat accelerates through the roof as he watches, squirming impatiently below Daichi.

Once Daichi actually begins to press into Koushi, as achingly slow as he can manage, his lip-biting deteriorates into open-mouthed panting. He’s trying to be gentle, but Koushi is so hot and so good he pushes his partner’s limits. Daichi spreads the physical sensation to Koushi mentally, making Koushi gasp and forget the pain long enough for Daichi to slide all the way inside of him. They pant and groan as one, the unity both mental and physical. Koushi releases the sheets to clutch at Daichi’s face, pulling him into an emotional kiss that shatters Daichi.

“Please,” Daichi asks, voice thick and wavering. “Will you let me…?”

“Anything,” Koushi replies.

Daichi wraps Koushi’s arms around him neck and then, carefully curling his own arms around Koushi’s thighs, Daichi sits back, pulling him into his lap. Koushi looks into his eyes, a cloudy curiosity and confusion reflected in his own.

“Together,” Daichi whispers.

Koushi’s eyes look suspiciously wet, but he nods his head jerkily, wrapping his legs around Daichi’s back. They steady into a push-pull rhythm almost immediately, the unity of the Ghost Drift pressing their minds as close to true Drift synchronicity as possible. Daichi can feel every tremor in Koushi’s body, every tiny hiss of satisfaction; and Koushi, he knows the mind-numbing, white-hot pleasure when Daichi slides into him, the garbled whispers of ‘so beautiful, so perfect, only one ever—’ that Daichi pours out with each thought that crosses his mind. And when Daichi finds Koushi’s sweet spot once, twice, they both curl together with groans of utter bliss. They come together, minds aligned and on fire, and without thinking, Daichi blurts it out.

“ _Koushi, oh, Koushi—_ ”

Koushi gasps, coming back down to earth, eyes lighting on Daichi’s immediately. “Daichi,” he whispers, breathless. Excited. “Daichi, did you say my name, just now?”

Daichi flushes. “I—if you don’t want me too...”

Koushi shushes him with a laugh and a kiss on his nose. “Always. I always want you to call my name.”

They separate slowly, Koushi mourning the emptiness he feels and Daichi the heat of his partner’s body. He throws away the condom as quickly as possible, diving back into bed—into Koushi’s waiting arms. They intertwine again, the need for contact abating a little but not completely. Daichi pulls Koushi up onto his broader chest and throws some stray blankets over their still naked bodies. Koushi presses himself flush to Daichi, weaving their legs together.

Daichi doesn’t realize he’s crying until the image of Koushi tracing patterns on his chest with the sweetest smile on his face blurs. He wipes at the water in surprise. Koushi looks up at the shock he feels from Daichi, confusion morphing into worry in record time.

“Daichi, are you alright?” He murmurs, eyebrows pinching together.

Daichi is caught between a laugh and a sob. “Yes, I’m better than I’ve ever been, actually. I just—Koushi, I’m so glad you’re here with me. I love you, and I’m so glad you’re in love with me too. Don’t leave my side, okay?” He sniffles and shoots Koushi a pathetic smile.

Koushi thumbs away his tears, expression fond and full of unbridled adoration. “Idiot. Why would I ever leave you? Gods above, but I love you, Daichi. I love you; I do.”

Daichi doesn’t know who falls asleep first, or when, or how either of them could have even managed to sleep at all, given the incredible, earth-shattering day they had had. Or maybe that’s the reason they drifted off, content in the knowledge of each other’s presence.

And when Daichi wakes to find Koushi, shirtless and drooling, splayed across his chest, he nearly cries again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .....i still can't believe i wrote that. bury me.
> 
> alright, so this bastard of a chapter was 33,000 words. i'm not going to post another beast like this again--excluding the one SUPER IMPORTANT chap coming up--so expect around 15k from now on?? i don't want to scare my lovely beta away/overwhelm hir hahahaa
> 
> feedback? don't ever write a sex scene again? [insert scene of your personal interest here]? 
> 
> (chapter title from 'Hotel Aquarium' by Falling Up, again)


	6. this sudden danger is my calling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my beta is a busy, busy bee in college, so this copy is the real deal. not my best work, but the quality will definitely get better, i promise!! may come back and edit this after i finish the fic...
> 
> in other news: **[crowsofficial](http://crowsofficial.tumblr.com)** , [**yoursarcastichorse**](http://yoursarcastichorse.tumblr.com), [**wika**](http://jensuisdraws.tumblr.com/), [**ester**](http://quesozombie.tumblr.com/), and [**ola**](http://totallysharpeyed.tumblr.com) made more art for my fic!! thank you guys so much ;;____;;
> 
> arts!!: [**kageyama, hinata, and omega omg**](http://crowsofficial.tumblr.com/post/98796948446/) // [**AFSADFFH OMEGA AND NOYA??**](http://crowsofficial.tumblr.com/post/99058275701/) // [**JUST LOOK AT THIS**](http://yoursarcastichorse.tumblr.com/post/98878828996/) // [**DAISUGA CONFESSION S L A Y ME**](http://jensuisdraws.tumblr.com/post/100095893359/) // [**FIRST YEAR CUDDLE**](https://twitter.com/quesozombie/status/518018810734198784) // [**FIRST YEAR CUDDLE X2**](http://totallysharpeyed.tumblr.com/post/100400030225)
> 
> finally, chap info: in this au, noya calls yaku 'mori' from 'morisuke'. also, i've named suga's little brother kai, so don't be confused when that name is thrown in.

“Damn,” Asahi mutters. “That’s not right either.”

He stands back, tossing the chalk carelessly into its tray. The same hand used to write reaches up to rub at his chin in deep thought, dusting chalky powder all over his overgrown beard. Asahi chews on the inside of his cheek, brows bunching together in pain and frustration. His eyes dart over the scrawl of white letters, numbers, and symbols, frantically searching for the flaw.

Asahi spots it, cursing low to himself—it’s at the top of the board, of course, how convenient. He grabs the ladder and rolls it over to the flaw in his calculations, scaling the ladder with the ease. Asahi forgets his chalk and eraser, has to dart back down to grab them, and by the time he’s leaning over to erase his mistake, he’s worked himself into a mood.

“So if I set the limit to that, instead of that, the result should be…no, no. That won’t work either; the function’ll be discontinuous right where it shouldn’t be.” Asahi keeps a steady stream of consciousness going in a low voice while he works his way through the integral, editing limits of integration and making tweaks to the function itself. “Wait, but if this function is actually correct, that means it will never approach the correct value…and the derivative doesn’t give any insight either… _agh!_ ” He finally decides to scratch the whole function and integral, starting anew for the nth time in weeks.

It’s while he’s in the middle of furiously scrubbing at the board and his hard work that Noya calls out to him.

“Asahi,” he raises his voice to carry across the bay, “you’re doing it again.”

Asahi halts partway through a swipe. “Doing what?” He asks, puzzled, glancing over at his lab partner.

Noya exhales loudly, spinning his swivel chair around to face Asahi. He yanks out the earbuds to his MP3 player (not even an iPod, Asahi winces), and pushes his lab goggles to the top of his head. “Talking to yourself,” Noya replies. “You always start muttering crossly when the calculus doesn’t go your way. What’s up this time, want me to help you out a little?”

Asahi waves a hand dismissively, but Noya is already peeling off his lab gear. “No, no—there’s no need for that, and besides, you’re working on an important project, aren’t you?” He glances timidly at the large secondary kaiju brain sealed into a preservation tube in front of Noya’s work station. Asahi doesn’t ask questions about his lab partner’s projects most of the time, but it’s pretty hard to miss a still-moving kaiju brain, tapping on the glass every now and then. He swallows nervously.

“Nah, Kyouken can wait. He’s not going anywhere,” Noya replies, grinning at his kaiju brain and jogging over to Asahi’s side of the bay. As usual, Asahi feels his heart rate pick up when Noya crosses over the painted line dividing their bay, palms sweating. He hates that he identifies Nishinoya—his friend and partner—with the kaiju that terrify him, but there’s really no helping it. Noya loves those aliens, in a scientific sense. They’re mysteries for him to solve, each one a disaster that he scours the aftermath of for clues to understanding them. He is frightening and intense and dedicated and loud. Asahi can’t decide if he should rely on Noya or run away from him.

Noya stands with his hands over his hips, surveying the mess of Asahi’s chicken-scratch handwriting and the chalk dust floating through the air from Asahi’s childish erasure of his equations. Feeling silly, he descends from the ladder and stands beside Noya, eyeing his work. It’s hard to pay attention, though, when he can feel how hard Noya is concentrating—Asahi ends up wringing his hands anxiously, impatiently awaiting his partner’s thoughts.

Finally, Noya hums in contentment and nods. “As I thought, Asahi-san, you’re a genius.” He turns to Asahi, grinning like an idiot. “I can’t understand a bit of this! Amazing!”

Asahi stares at him despairingly. “I thought you said you wanted to help me…didn’t you take college algebra and calculus?”

Noya shrugs, unfazed. “’Course I did! But like I said, math and engineering are both so incredibly boring. I slept through almost every lecture.” He looks almost proud—Asahi has to smile.

“Honestly, isn’t it you who are the amazing one…?”

“Never mind all that,” Noya dismisses the ‘praise’. “I think what you really need is a break from all that math junk. C’mere.” He trots back to his side of the bay, leaving Asahi no choice but to follow him. Asahi regards all the sketches and varied kaiju bits with disquiet, but trusts that Noya won’t lead him astray. Noya leads him to the massive electron microscope set up on one of the lab tables next to…Kyouken. The K-scientist fiddles with a few of the knobs while Asahi refuses to break eye contact with the slightly swaying mass of brain floating in amber liquid.

Noya notes the stare-down out of the corner of his eye and snorts, dragging Asahi’s attention back to him. “He’s not going to bite you, you know,” Noya promised, amused. “Come over here, I want you to take a look at this.” He moves away from screen of his computer and the image displayed on it. Asahi peers over his shoulder curiously. “Do you know what that is?” Noya asks.

“Of course,” Asahi replies. “It’s a human neuron.” The web-like structure of the cell was unmistakable.

“Good,” Noya says with a nod, edging his way back to the microscope and changing the slide out. “Now, with that image in mind, look at this one.”

Asahi nearly gasps aloud. The new image clearly shows a neuron of some kind, but the structure is far more developed than anything Asahi has ever seen. From each branching off of the enlarged nucleus, entire webs expanded, entwining the fine, hair-like structures with those of other neurons. Noya switched the black and white image to one of false color, and the neuron lit up, showing all the places where information was exchanged and energy was consumed. The image was a kaleidoscope of color.

“What is this…?” Asahi whispered, impressed even as someone who wasn’t as avid about biology as Noya. His lab partner shoots him a satisfied smile.

“That’s a kaiju neuron. From the secondary brain. I’ve only had the chance to look at some small primary brain samples, and let me tell you—they make this baby look like nothing,” Noya explains, puffing up his chest in pride. Asahi stares at him in amazement.

“A kaiju’s?”

“It’s quite something, isn’t it?” Noya sounds pleased as a parent boasting about his child’s achievement. “There’s so much we don’t know about how the kaiju think and interact with each other and the world around them. Just look at the neuron’s structure! Why did they evolve like that? What is the function of all those neural hairs? It’s all a great big mystery. I mean, it’s amazing that we were even able to discover that the kaiju have a hivemind, all thanks to Mori’s initial research and my analysis.”

Noya turns to face Asahi and raises an eyebrow. “I’m not going to try and talk you into becoming a ‘kaiju groupie’ or whatever Akaashi called me, but I do want you to stop being afraid all the time. Our Jaeger pilots are the best, right? And the kaiju have their moments of beauty and intrigue, too. You don’t have to worry.”

“Noya…” Asahi starts, a sad smile on his face.

Noya’s shoulders slump a little. He sighs. “I know, I know—this is really hard for you. I won’t push you too far out of your comfort zone. But I’m not going to give up on trying to help you either!” He plants his hands firmly on his hips and gives Asahi a consoling smile. Asahi nods, exhaling loudly.

“There’s no stopping you, right?”

“Nope!” Noya’s smile morphs into a shit-eating grin and he hustles Asahi around his side of the bay, pointing out ongoing experiments or interesting finds in his research, talking a mile a minute. Asahi humors him, even though he can’t understand half of the garbled K-science terminology that Noya spits out as if it were colloquial language. However, he can understand well enough the wild gestures and sparkling eyes of his companion when Noya latches onto any kaiju-related topic of discussion. Asahi adds “hmmmm’s” and “oh, I see’s” where appropriate, feeling the stress drain from his body at Noya’s almost juvenile enthusiasm and letting his mind wander a little.

Of course, in the middle of his musings and occasional avoidance of kaiju entrails, the last variable to his own equation clicks into place. He stops dead as Noya shows him to the kaiju nail samples, causing his partner to blink in surprise. “Asahi?” he murmurs in confusion.

“Nishinoya Yuu,” Asahi begins, eyes wide with realization. He grabs Noya by the shoulders suddenly, staring at him in amazement. “ _You_ are the genius!” Asahi nearly lets out a sob of joy, because obviously, _obviously_ that was the mistake he had made! He plants a kiss on Noya’s forehead, caught up in the heat of the moment.

“Asahi-san?!” Noya squeaks in surprise, reverting back to an honorific and cheeks coloring a little. But then it clicks for him and he leans forward, grabbing Asahi’s arm. “What is it? Did you figure it out?”

Asahi throws his head back and laughs, full and relieved. He nods once. “God, yes, I can’t believe I missed it! I kept thinking something was wrong with the parent function or the limits of integration, but it was the damn k value the whole time!”

“What are you waiting for, then?” Noya laughs in return, shoving his partner back to his own side. “Go, go! Write it down already!” They scramble across the bay, Noya grabbing the chalk and passing it up to Asahi as he climbed his rolling ladder and began furiously scribbling the changes across the blackboard. Satisfied, Noya sat back and watched the downpour of numbers and symbols appear in jagged lines of white.

When Asahi finishes, he practically leaps from the ladder, brushing the chalk from his hands and grinning at Noya with that rare, accomplished smile that made Noya’s heart soar. He didn’t see it nearly as often as he should. They stare up at the completed equation in appreciation for a moment before Noya mutters, “Damn. Yeah, I really don’t understand a bit of this.”

“Maybe not,” Asahi concedes, “but you helped me out here. I owe you one.” Asahi’s expression shrinks back to his usual sheepish one at Noya’s proud look. Noya huffs.

“So what exactly is this equation for, anyway? Something kaiju-related, obviously.”

Asahi scratches the back of his neck, frowning thoughtfully at his board. “Well, it’s supposed to help predict the rate of kaiju appearances—I’ve hit a dead end on my size-prediction equation. I decided to work on this using previous data on a whim while I wait for a peer review of my other work. Somehow it turned into this monstrosity. It should work, though.”

Noya hops in Asahi’s swivel chair at his computer, eyeing the technology assembled across Asahi’s desk with interest, but doesn’t make to touch any of it with the anxious look Asahi is shooting him. Asahi scribbles a few more calculations in, occasionally consulting his computer for a particularly difficult element of the equation. He flits about the bay with the practiced ease of someone who practically lived there. Noya tracks him with his eyes, arms crossed over the back of the chair.

This is something he enjoys. Once Asahi really gets into his element (math) and forgets about other people watching or bothering him, he shifts into his own super-concentrated-serious mode. The typical timid expression disappears, replaced with scholarly seriousness or frustration or relief when something works. Occasionally he lights up after solving a particularly difficult part of his work with a small, secretive smile that makes Nishinoya’s heart soar.

It’s not like he has time to waste, but sometimes Noya will devote himself to the pastime of Asahi-watching, a fascinating sport that never fails to amuse him. Whether it’s perched in a hidden corner of the bay, from his makeshift lab, or right in Asahi’s space, Noya observes the minute shifts in Asahi’s facial expressions, thrilled to see the little bits of his true self peeking through. It’s a real shame that Asahi tends to clam up around people he’s not familiar with—he’s really a cool guy!

Or maybe he’s just been conditioned to be comfortable in Noya’s presence. Being trapped in the same lab every day will do that to a guy.

Asahi purses his lips suddenly, frowning more sharply than before. Noya blinks in surprise. That’s an intense look as he’s ever seen before. It’s the same look Daichi had on his face the first time he and Suga prepared to fight a Category Four. Noya’s never seen it on Asahi before. “What’s up?”

“Something’s wrong,” Asahi mutters in a dangerously low voice. “Something’s not right with this equation, the numbers are too big.” He continues to write regardless, looking more and more concerned with each stroke. Varied mutters of “but this isn’t possible” and “no, that should be inconclusive” reach Noya’s ears and sits up, leaning forward to try and make sense of the calculus in front of him.

At the bottom of the board, Asahi hesitates for a long moment before finally writing a ‘2’ and circling it a few times for emphasis. “That,” he gestures to the ‘2’, “is my problem. That should most certainly _not_ be a two.”

“What’s it mean? Two months? Two weeks?” Noya rocks back in the chair, causing it to squeak.

Asahi takes a deep breath. “Two kaiju.”

Noya meets his stare, confused. Asahi is pale, looking like he’s had some kind of grand and terrible epiphany, but Noya doesn’t understand at all. “Okay? So there’ll be two kaiju in a certain amount of time, what’s the big deal?”

Asahi is shaking his head before Noya even finishes. “Noya, that’s not—no, that’s not what I meant. It means…”—his hands clench into fists—“it means there will be a double event. Very, very soon.”

Noya stills. “A double event?”

Asahi nods solemnly. “Two kaiju will come from the Breach at relatively similar times. We’re going to have to deal with two kaiju for the first time in the history of this war—what are we going to do?” He sounds so drained and despairing, Noya immediately stands, holding up his hands.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Wait a minute here. How do you know there’s going to be a double event?” Asahi gestures helplessly at the equation.

“In a month’s time there’s going to be an event, but one of the auxiliary functions I’d been using suggested that the rate of activity was going to be almost twice as high as with a single event—it can only be explained by more kaiju activity and therefore, more kaiju. Unless it’s a Category Six, but even then, just one kaiju passing through the Breach shouldn’t generate so much activity…”

Noya stops him. “Are you sure you haven’t made a mistake in your calculations? That’s what happened before, right? It’s not that I don’t trust your calculations, but aren’t you jumping to conclusions a little? I mean, no one’s ever heard of a double event.”

Asahi exhales loudly. “Trust me, I checked. It has matched the other kaiju predictions and past attacks almost flawlessly. It’s not a mistake—this is going to be the first double event.”

“Hey,” Noya says suddenly, worried. “Hey now, it’s okay.”

Asahi hadn’t realized how badly he was shaking until Noya fixes him with an uncharacteristically concerned look. He holds up one hand and watches all his fingers tremble despite his best efforts to keep them steady. Now that he’s stopped to actually evaluate his current state, Asahi can hear his shallow, rapid breathing and the sound of blood pounding in his ears. He’s woozy, tilting a little and unable to focus on the board, on the bay, on Noya. He recognizes the signs, if he could only say something to Noya—

“Whoa, whoa, easy now.” Noya’s at his side instantly, supporting him with gentle but firm touches, easing him into one of the rolling chairs in his lab. “Hey, Asahi, are you with me? You’re beginning to have an attack. I need you to take deep breaths, okay? Look at me.”

Asahi tries to focus in on Noya, smiling comfortingly and still touching him, anchoring Asahi to reality. He struggles to control his breathing, listening only to Noya’s voice, low and soothing. “That’s it, that’s it; you’ve got it. Good, really good, I can feel your heartbeat slowing a little. Don’t drift off, ‘kay? I’m here; I’ve got you.”

It takes a few minutes, but Asahi’s vision clears and his ears stop ringing. Noya’s still rubbing comforting circles into his shoulder, kneeling in front of him. He takes one long, final breath and shuts his eyes, willing his body back to normalcy. His hands are still trembling slightly, but it’s far less than before. They’re cold. Noya notes this as well and cups Asahi’s hands in his own small ones, furiously rubbing them in order to warm them up. The friction helps some of the feeling return to his fingers and Asahi’s shaking nearly stops.

Noya’s hands are warm, much like the rest of him.

He’s burning, from fingertips to toes—a human furnace, really. His metabolism had always been off the charts (that’s why he ate far more than the rest of the kaiju response team), turning all that excess energy to heat that radiated from him, physically and emotionally. Noya was often an ember buried into Asahi’s side during movie nights with the rest of the team, or a searing hand to Asahi’s shoulder on long nights in the K-science bay, guiding him back to their shared room.

But Noya also emanated charisma and energy, a loud and lively comet rocketing down the halls of the base or scaling Tyrant Omega with far more ease than a biology major should have. He drew others towards him with the heat of his presence and the promise of the warmth it would bring them. They were all moths drawn to the candle flame, weren’t they?

_Better be careful, or I’ll get burned._

Noya’s confident and hopeful grin prompts Asahi to return it with a weary smile of his own. Noya hasn’t let go of his hands yet, in fact, he gives them a reassuring squeeze. Asahi hopes he isn’t sweating too much. _Getting burned, huh…that’s probably okay._

“Honestly, Asahi,” Noya sighs, exasperated. “Even if there _is_ going to be a double event, it’s not the end of the world. Have a little faith in Daichi and Suga and the rookies, would you? We’re stronger than ever right now, you know. Those kaiju don’t stand a chance.”

Asahi nods, clearing his throat. “Yes I…I suppose you’re right. It’s just really…” His hands twitch between Noya’s.

Noya takes Asahi’s hands and gently smacks his cheeks with his own hands. Asahi blinks in surprise. “Chin up, ace,” Noya laughs. “We’ll protect you. Not even Daichi would let your glass heart shatter. All you have to do is point us in the right direction.”

Asahi nods once more, stronger this time, and stands, pulling Noya up with him. Noya smacks him on the back with a laugh, Asahi coughing at the strength of the hit, and just like that, the balance is restored to the bay. Asahi trudges over to his computers, an excitable Noya leaping around him and asking what he was doing, oh, that’s a really complex computer model you’ve got there, what are you using it for? Asahi humors him in a low, calm voice, easing back into his routine with the comfort of mathematics.

Math was, to Asahi, the greatest balm on his rattled psyche. Equations and functions were sturdy friends, never varying because of some stray variable and as absolute as the orbit of the Earth around the Sun. If he got a wrong answer, it was because of his human error, not because the process of the numbers had changed. Even since high school, Asahi had been flighty and anxious, but math—his best and favorite subject—mollified him to a degree that nothing else could. Koushi, his best friend, had teased him constantly for smiling while he did his calculus homework, but it was no matter. Asahi would simply roll his eyes good-naturedly and help his kind-hearted classmate with the latest lesson.

They had lived on the same street in their younger years, although they didn’t really speak until high school. Asahi had been too shy to make friends—and the other kids had been too frightened to make friends with him—but Koushi took to him like a duck to water. A gentle soul even then, Koushi commuted with him to Karasuno, much farther from their local high school but a good bet for their education and futures. They took the same college prep classes and Koushi chatted non-stop with Asahi when they walked together, slowly easing him out of his shell. It was a good set-up, great even. Koushi wanted to go to the university in Miyagi so he wouldn’t be too far from home and Asahi wanted to go because of the famous professor of mathematics there. They planned to be roommates. They planned to study abroad.

Then, of course, the professor moved universities, taking Asahi’s reason to attend the one in Miyagi with him. Koushi urged him to follow, smiling and hopeful for Asahi’s future—he knew what a prodigy Asahi was. And once he got a scholarship to go to Tokyo—well. Asahi couldn’t exactly turn it down. He and Koushi kept in touch, texting each other often, perhaps more often than they had talked. Asahi coped with his friend’s absence. Math majors tended to be similarly minded and quiet anyway; Asahi felt right at home with them. He graduated. Went on to grad school. Earned his two doctorates and an impressive internship with a prominent mathematician. That famous kaiju, Thousand-Tails, struck when Asahi was at the highest point in his life, when he had direction and shining prospects, wiping him back to square one.

His family escaped the carnage when Thousand-Tails made landfall, losing their property but not their lives. Asahi can pinpoint the exact moment he found out about the attack, sitting in a bar with a few of his companions on a rare night out to celebrate his internship, condensation from the beer dripping down onto his white-knuckled hand like the trickle of fear ran down his spine…

He found out that his parents were okay a couple days later and about Koushi even later than that. The trauma, the shock, the psychological damage—he found out about it all in a cold waiting room, the scent of latex clogging his nose and fluorescent lights highlighting the bags under his eyes. Asahi took care of Koushi for a few weeks after that, settling him back into his apartment— _he had only been visiting; oh Suga, oh Suga_ —and taking him to therapy until Koushi stopped looking breakable and his eyes cleared.

Asahi didn’t start having anxiety attacks over the kaiju until one late night over at Koushi’s, only three days before he returned to Tokyo, and a news special broadcasted the destruction of his hometown through the lens of a shaky cellphone camera. The screen blurred, his throat closed, and Koushi found him tilted over, practically convulsing, and rushed him to a hospitable immediately. That’s when Asahi learned he couldn’t look at a picture of a kaiju without shaking, couldn’t watch footage without dissolving into an attack, couldn’t look at Koushi without seeing the sadness lingering in his eyes, translating into the thick sludge of guilt low in his gut. Because after all, what did Asahi have to be so anxious and scared of? His family lived, he had been safe from Thousand-Tails up in Tokyo, and the images of death and devastation didn’t haunt him in his dreams like they did Koushi, who woke up wailing and trembling on his worst nights.

_“Asahi, I’m going to join the Miyagi Kaiju Response Base, enter in the Jaeger program. I’m going to become a pilot. Just thought I should let you know.”_

Why? Why did Koushi send him that text that kept Asahi up all night when he received it? How was Koushi still okay, still unafraid to face off against the very monsters that had ruined his life, when Asahi could only shudder at the mere mention of the word ‘kaiju’? When he threw up because some guy on the train had a tattoo of Thousand-Tails, like it was nothing, like that unholy _demon_ hadn’t destroyed the lives of millions people, killed or otherwise?

_“Oh I’m still afraid alright, Asahi. It’s **because** I’m afraid that I have to do this. I won’t be satisfied until I know those pilots and techs and whoever are trying their very hardest to protect civilians—I won’t let anyone else end up like me or Mom and Dad and Kai.”_

_“…I still don’t understand.”_

_“I’m not going to let this kill me. I’ve got to make something of the rest of my life. God knows I won’t find it teaching. I need to help the people the Miyagi base was unable to help.”_

_“Well, if there’s anyone for the job, it has to be you, Suga.”_

It was true, too. Updates from the base came infrequently, but when they did, Koushi always had something positive to say about the training and his rotation. He was fulfilled there, so he said, feeling as if he had found his one true place to belong. Then Daichi happened, and Koushi set his roots in the Jaeger program, forming a team that actually could pilot, that _would_ pilot, even if their Jaeger was a beat-up hand me down. When Koushi told Asahi about his first time piloting as the flank team to Akaashi and Bokuto, Asahi decided it was about time he joined, too. The Miyagi base was looking for a mathematician, and he had been pestered by other bases to join up with them, anyway. He’d get absorbed one way or another, and better the devil he knew (and Koushi) than the one he didn’t. Theirs was a kaiju-centric world—he had to face it head-on.

And after a few months, Noya happened to him. Koushi joked about Asahi finally finding his ‘other half’ like Koushi had found his in Daichi, but he couldn’t have been farther from the truth. Noya was everything Asahi was not—wild, confident, and full of so much positive energy, he could have powered the entire base on his own. Asahi—fortunately or unfortunately—was an object of fascination to Noya, who bugged him day in and day out. Asahi couldn’t have ignored him if he wanted to.

But he didn’t want to, that was the strangest part. Despite being a foil to his anxious, introverted self, Noya endeared himself to Asahi, who often found himself giving in to even the most ridiculous whims of Noya’s (they didn’t speak of the incident with the bubble bath solution). Noya might have heightened Asahi’s anxiety in a completely different way than the kaiju—although there was that, too—but he was _good_ for Asahi, as Koushi pointed out with a smile hidden behind his hand. Asahi smiled and laughed more often because of Noya. He couldn’t exactly argue—the base had become home and no one was more surprised than Asahi was.

It almost ended though, that newfound happiness in such a dangerous place, when Koushi chased the R.A.B.I.T. Seeing Koushi carried away, still quivering and sobbing like he’d relived the death of his friends and family (he had) reset Asahi back to those days of watching his best friend crumble to pieces while he watched, helpless and heavy with guilt. All Asahi can remember from that time was a blur before Noya. He remembers the choking, the panting, the tunnel vision of a caged animal screaming at him to _escape, escape, ESCAPE, YOU IDIOT IT’S DANGEROUS HERE RUN RUN RUN—_

—Then he was in the bay, shoving papers into folders, scattering most of them, the only sound the roar of blood in his ears and his own ragged breathing. Then Noya, standing there in the doorway, the same open body language and bright, curious eyes and _god_ , Asahi needed to get _out_ —

“Asahi-san?” An uncharacteristically soft voice. “Asahi-san, what are you doing?”

“Leaving.” Asahi didn’t recognize his own voice, cracked and rasping. “Getting out, I need to go, need to get out, god, _oh god_ —”

“You can’t do that, Asahi-san, Suga needs you!” Noya leapt in front of him, tugging at his arm. “He needs you here, you’re his dear friend!”

Asahi shakes his head, vision swimming, attempting to free his arm from Noya’s grasp. “No, no no no, he doesn’t; I’m sorry Suga, I can’t do this anymore.” Asahi slumped forward into Noya, still murmuring noiseless apologies to his long-time friend. Noya caught him uneasily.

“Asahi-san are you okay? Suga mentioned a condition…” He prompts uncertainly, and Asahi can just see the edge of concern in Noya’s eyes and hear it in his voice.

 _No,_ he wants to say. _Give that concern to Suga, he needs it. He’s so strong and kind—he needs all the love and support in the world to get better. He deserves it. Don’t stay with me Noya; I don’t deserve your dedication, your friendship. I’m as guilty as Thousand-Tails, why wasn’t it me, Suga shouldn’t have had this, it should have been—Noya, I’m leaving anyway—_

Maybe he wasn’t as subconscious in his pleas as he thought because Noya jolts against him, shoving him back with a snarl. “Stop that!” he practically growls. “You’re valuable and important and we all need you too! Don’t belittle yourself so much! Don’t talk about leaving us! Don’t be so stupid, Asahi-san!”

Asahi’s vision clears slightly. He still can’t breathe quite right, but he can see Noya, hands working in attempt to calm himself down, posture stiff and unyielding. “How can you believe you don’t matter? How can you…after all these months together… No one deserves to be hurt by a kaiju, you know. That’s why I’m studying them. That’s why I’m here!” He bangs a fist against his chest, lips curled in a snarl.

“I’m not here because I feel sorry for someone! I’m here because I want people to stop hurting altogether, not mope over the past! I’m needed, just like you’re needed…we can’t do this without you, Asahi, so why would you ever think…” The fight goes out of Noya in an instant. He slumps, gaze still fixed on Asahi.

His eyes are shimmering.

If focusing on Noya had calmed his anxiety down, then seeing him _tear up, of all things_ snapped Asahi completely back to reality. Asahi embraced him immediately before he could reconsider his actions. The panic died down in both of them, and hesitantly Noya lifted his arms and wrapped them around Asahi in return, taking deep, steadying breaths, warm air puffing against Asahi’s collarbone. Asahi promised, in a small voice that he was alright now, he wouldn’t leave, and Noya nodded against him.

Asahi hadn’t needed to panic like that. It wasn’t just Noya who supported him and had his back—Koushi was there, as he always was, willing to help out Asahi with his anxiety while he was out of commission to recover. Even Daichi, who Asahi would have sworn up and down hated his cowardly guts, popped in to ask him how he was doing or drop off lunch when Asahi forgot about it, wrapped in his studies. Noya’s friend Tanaka stopped by more often, another loud companion who was insistent on getting Asahi out more often. Hell, even the nurses who had been looking after Koushi, Narita and Kinoshita, chatted with him on occasion.

Of course, to top it all off, Noya made it his own personal quest to find out as much as he could about anxiety attacks and how to help Asahi when the next one happened instead of “bawling like an idiot”, as he put it. And Noya meant it seriously, too. He’d been at Asahi’s side more often than Koushi, to the point where Asahi and everyone else called for Noya to help Asahi get through one. (He stopped tacking the _–san_ on, too. Asahi never actually told him how much it meant to him that Noya considered them equals.)

Truth be told, Asahi was glad to have the spitfire attached to him at the hip, even if Noya tended to do dumb or infuriating things, such as prodding at Asahi’s computers, as he was now.

“Hey,” Asahi chides gently. “Be careful with that data, would you?”

Noya pouts. “Wasn’t gonna do anything,” he defends.

Asahi’s about to reply with a variation of ‘yeah, right’ when Tanaka pops his head through the door, catching Asahi’s attention.

“Yo, you two doing anything important right now?” Tanaka asks, raising an eyebrow at Noya rocking back and forth in a swivel chair. “Well, good to know Yuu’s wasting that inhuman intelligence of his. How did you get your doctorate, again?”

Noya stops rocking and spins to face Tanaka. “ _Five_ doctorates, Ryuu, excuse you. To think someone who went to grad school for engineering can’t count, that’s something.”

Asahi sighs. _Here they go again_.

“Oh, so that’s how you want to play it, Yuu? Well then, at least all four of my doctorates are _legitimate_.”

“Hey, fuck you, man; K-Science is a legitimate degree!”

“You _made up_ the course!”

“Only because there was _literally no_ research on kaiju that wasn’t utter _garbage_.”

“Whatever, I’ll give you that one, but any way you look at it, biology’s an easier Ph.D. than engineering.”

“Okay, now _that_ is total bullshit. Anyone who has a basic grasp of advanced calculus and half a brain could do engineering!”

“Did you even listen to that last sentence? Yuu, you’re a moron!”

“Shut up Ryuu, you’re just bitter that I have more degrees than you!”

“Could you both please,” Asahi interrupts, “ _please_ just be quiet?”

Noya and Tanaka had their hands fisted in each other’s shirts, screaming into each other’s face, spittle flying. Asahi questioned how they could even be friends when arguments like this were a weekly occurrence. Shame-faced, they drop each other anyway, scuffing their feet and mumbling apologies.

“Oh! Well anyway, I was going to suggest we go for a few drinks,” Tanaka perks up, remembering his original reason for stopping by. Noya, forgetting the bickering instantly, looks hopefully at Tanaka.

“Really?” His head whips around to look at Asahi pleadingly. “C’mon, you’ve worked on that darn project long enough; take a break!”

Asahi looks over his work with a mixture of concern and tiredness. Noya could be right. Maybe if he stepped back from his work for a while, it would stop getting so cluttered in his head. A few beers would do the trick. He consents with a smile and a nod, and the duo _whoop_ in excitement, charging out the door, Asahi following more slowly.

The bar they and other members of the staff frequent wasn’t more than a mile or so down the road from the base—close enough to walk or jog too, and not so far that they couldn’t stumble back to the base if they were drunk beyond belief. It was a tight squeeze on busy nights, but the owner was a good friend of Koushi and Daichi, and therefore, the rest of the base. And the bar tender, a stoic, quiet fellow with the build of a hulking polar bear, easily put down any bar fights or scuffling. It’s a good place to calm one’s nerves or just hang out with a crowd of spirited and friendly individuals.

Although it’s not a requirement necessarily, there are no true ‘groups’ at The Iron Wall. Everyone intermingles, whether they’re locals or from the base, chatting or just sharing table space. The air is one of camaraderie and blissful ignorance of the current world situation, if just for a night. When Noya, Tanaka, and Asahi arrive, the party is already in full swing. It’s a busy night, but a scan of the room tells Asahi none of the pilots are there.

Noya leaps onto an open bar stool, kneeling on it to better lean over the bar. “Aone-san!” He calls, drawing the giant’s attention. Asahi can’t tell if the blank look is one of barely concealed irritation or fond tolerance at Noya’s actions, but he ruffles the scientist’s hair anyway, earning him a yelp from Noya and immediate backing off the bar top.

“What’ll it be?” He asks Asahi quietly, sensing a kindred spirit.

“Ah, the usual will do for all of us. Don’t let Noya talk you into giving him any vodka; he was a nightmare last time,” Asahi orders for them, raising an eyebrow at Noya’s sudden pout.

“Put it on Ryuu’s tab,” he blurts instead of arguing with Asahi. “It was his idea after all.”

Tanaka bitches at Noya for a little while but caves when Noya promises drinks on him next time. They squabble amiably over what kind of beer to order next, gesturing all over the place to the point where Asahi honestly doubts they’re talking beers at all. He sips his own gratefully, sharing a meaningful glance with Aone, drying some glasses with a rag. Aone shifts to keep an eye on two newbie Drift techs who are gradually climbing higher and higher onto a table, red in the face from a friendly argument. An anonymous local bumps Asahi’s arm and she smiles apologetically, giggling when Asahi returns her smile with a shaky one of his own.

Noya elbows him sharply and Asahi jumps a foot.

“Having fun yet, ace?” Noya’s eyes are bright and darting, drinking in the good-feel atmosphere of the bar. He’s perfectly at home, practically dripping charisma and drawing the attention of a group of college students who are bound to invite him over to join in on a game of some kind. Noya’ll accept of course, bouncing over and throwing himself in the middle of them, brushing against arms and legs like he’s known them for years. That’s just who he is—drawing moths to his flame wherever he goes.

And Asahi’s fine with this. He likes to be the quiet observer, listening in on a conversation or watching the antics of the younger ones, conversing with Aone through a series of knowing smiles and eyebrow raises. Asahi like to watch Noya go, shedding his light on others. Asahi’s not selfish enough to want it for himself—and he doesn’t have to worry about that anyway. Because in those high moments, after delivering the punchline of a joke or performing some crazy stunt, Noya looks to Asahi. For approval or for amusement, out of habit or out of curiosity; Noya always glances to Asahi, face aglow, and Asahi will nod or huff in amusement, looking away a moment later. It’s too hard sometimes, to look at Noya when he’s at his brightest.

_Having fun yet, ace?_

The worries from earlier, thoughts of the double event and of calculus, slip from Asahi’s mind like sand through fingers. His muscles ease and his mind clears. He lives in the present, if just for a moment, meeting Noya’s expectant smile and nodding. Noya grins in response, and for a second, Asahi thinks he might say something to him, almost like a slip of the tongue. But Noya hesitates too long and the group of kids fulfill Asahi’s prophecy and call out to the ‘shrimp with the cool hair’, drawing Noya’s attention from Asahi in a second. He goes easy on them because they’re immediately teasing and friendly; the two different parties taking to each other easily. Asahi watches from afar, wondering if Moniwa-san will take a break from managing to drink with them, and Aone slides him another beer. Asahi wonders why it tastes like sympathy.

 

\-------------

 

A week and a half later finds the three-pair pilot team huddled in a small room a hallway down from the Shatterdome’s control tower. Hinata’s pretty wound up, jiggling his leg and biting his lip as they lean over the table, prompting Tsukishima to elbow him sharply in the ribs under the guise of “stretching”. Hinata yelps in pain and Kageyama fixes Tsukishima with a gaze sharp enough to rival his elbows. Yamaguchi sighs and worms his way between Hinata and Tsukishima, playing the mediator. He also gives Kageyama a reprimanding frown when Kageyama continues to glare at Tsukishima, prompting the overprotective pilot to back down reluctantly.

Daichi and Koushi are silent through the exchange, fighting smiles off their faces. Technically, this was an official meeting and _technically_ , the pilots should have been taking it more seriously, but their ability to sort through kinks in their interactions—mostly due to Yamaguchi’s inoffensive neutral presence—was a promising sign that the three pairs would be able to form a cohesive team. Daichi clears his throat and the four stiffen, paying attention again.

“…As I was saying,” Daichi began. “The paths highlighted in blue are our main routes for intercepting the kaiju—Tsukishima, you better pay attention, we’ve changed them a bit—the yellow are for freak situations, using land shortcuts and the like. We try to avoid those as often as we can, collateral damage and all that. The red are the absolute last resort routes. Yes, they’re faster, but only at the expense of local businesses and homes. Plus, there’re always those people who don’t adhere to evacuation advisories despite our best efforts. Stepping on people is easier than you might think.”

“Also,” Suga gestures to a darker mass of water. “We try to avoid these dark patches of deeper water. Not only is it harder to push through extra millions of gallons of water, but the kaiju of the aquatic variety can easily ambush you and drag you down. It’s happened before.”

There’s a moment of silence amongst the pilots in respect for their fallen predecessors. (And if Kageyama flinches hard then no one has to know except Hinata, who memorizes the sharp slash of shock and fear that passes over their connection before Kageyama can stop it.)

“Tactics-wise,” Daichi continues. “Control will give you a route to follow, unique to each Jaeger while we discuss with them the best plan of attack, but it’s never bad to know your surroundings in case you need to improvise. Additionally, don’t be afraid to put your two cents into our plan of attack—Koushi and I may be the most experienced, but fresh perspectives can sometimes improve the quality of our strategy to an incredible degree. You’d do well to memorize these routes.”

Koushi changes the graphics on the table they’re gathered around with a few quick finger strokes through the holographics to reveal real-time imagery. A flick of the finger and he projects it in front of the other pilots, panning across their exit bay, slightly choppy waves flickering at the bottom of the holo-screen. He’s about to speak when the alarm goes off, the deafening blare of a siren and the flash of red lights filling the room.

Hinata yips in surprise, his whole body flinching at the same time Kageyama shoots out a hand to steady him. Hinata meets his eyes, half grateful, half curious. Koushi herds them out of the room with soft but stern encouragement, Tsukishima and Yamaguchi already out the door and Daichi close behind.

“It’s your first real mission, so we’ll be putting you two on reserve no matter what category shows up, okay?” Koushi explains. “The first few missions are always rough—take it easy and don’t take your mistakes to heart; you’ll get into the swing of it.” He shoos the two stiff-limbed pilots in the direction of their Jaeger with a parting grin, attempting to instill confidence in the newbies. Hinata and Kageyama exchange glances, but Koushi need not have worried. They break into excited grins of their own, nervous energy filling their limbs as they break into a sprint towards their Jaeger.

They nearly bowl over Noya, streaking in the direction of Mission Control with Asahi hot on his heels. They don’t even have a chance to apologize before the scientist and mathematician duo pass them with a desperate energy. Noya blows into the room, a hurricane all on his own, Asahi following in his wake. Saeko’s blowing a bubble with her gum, but her eyebrows are knitted together in concern. Asahi fears the worst.

“Saeko-neechan, what’s going on?” Noya gasps, panting a little.

She turns around in surprise, popping the bubble and putting her hands on her hips, tense expression melting away. “Well this is quite the rare treat. What’re you two doing here, clogging up my techs’ space?” The look in her eyes says she’s joking, but Asahi still glances around the small room apologetically.

“This is important,” Noya insists, looking her straight in the eyes with no trace of humor on his face. “What’s the situation with the kaiju?”

Saeko’s a little taken aback by his insistence, but she shrugs and pulls up a holographic display. “Category Four, codename ‘Dandelion’. Offensive spikes all around its head and on its body. Gonna be a tough long-distance battle. Why? Has something happened I should know of?”

Noya looks to Asahi, distressed. Asahi steps forward, hand moving to press at the base of Noya’s shoulder blade comfortingly. “You’re sure there are no anomalies? Nothing out of the ordinary?”

Saeko shrugs again, confused. “A Category Four in Miyagi is pretty damn weird in itself. Our sensors went wild, you know? It’s not the biggest we’ve faced, but it’s unfortunate that it had to show up on Tyrant Omega’s first run.” She frowns again, looking between the two. “Something’s up, isn’t it. What aren’t you telling me?”

Asahi shakes his head. “I’m sorry, it must have been a mistake on my part. I was so sure…but this is the reality, and I don’t want to cause undue panic over a faulty calculation. Please forgive our interruption, but might we stay for this mission?”

She nods, still not fully comprehending the situation but trusting them to inform her of any relevant information. “Right over there should be fine.” Noya and Asahi bow and remove themselves to a corner where they will not interfere with the well-oiled machine of Mission Control. Saeko takes up the com from a tech, scrolling through maps and incoming data while her personal techs record the strategy put into place by her and the main team.

The Marshal shows up, too, standing at Saeko’s side. He has a com of his own, the only two allowed to communicate with the Jaeger pilots. The massive windows revealing the interior of the Shatterdome darken and flicker to life moments later as video feeds from the military helicopters and water vessels giving Mission Control as many angles as possible to aid the Jaeger team.

“I don’t like it,” Saeko barks suddenly. “Tyrant Omega is still new and inexperienced. Close quarters with this kaiju would be—I’m _aware_ of that, Suga, but even if their long-range accuracy is pretty crap, it’s still better than sacrificing them to the spikes on that thing. We don’t know how tough they are yet.” Asahi and Noya can’t hear the other side of the conversation, but Saeko's nails drum against the top of a desk with irritation. She’s concerned more than angry, but it’s apparent the pilots aren’t giving her an easy time of it.

“Kageyama and Hinata,” she says loud and sudden. “You do realize this is an extremely dangerous kaiju with the capacity to plow straight through all that wiring and machinery that controls Omega, right? You can’t get hit _at all_. You sure you want to risk that? …Hmm. Fine. If Ukai-san allows it.”

The Marshall leans over his mic. “If it looks bad, get out immediately. A more risky plan is better than losing an entire team, for sure. If Sawamura and Sugawara say get out, you _get out_. Hear me?” Ukai seems satisfied with the response and nods for operations to continue. Saeko barks out a few more orders, and on the screen, Omega begins to surge forward while Strike sets up for long-distance cover and AA circles around opposite from Omega, distance weapon drawn. Omega is the only one with melee weapons—two long swords crackling with energy.

“Plasma sabers,” Noya murmurs with interest. “I didn’t know he was fitted with those.”

Asahi would reply, but his stomach is already heavy with dread at the glistening black shape emerging from the depths of the Pacific Ocean, water streaming from its body as it breaches, falling like a monsoon from the literal dandelion of spikes around its flat face. At the end of its short, thick tail is a heavy club of chunkier spikes clearly designed to knock a Jaeger out of commission.

“Oh no,” Asahi whimpers. “Oh god, it’s too big, _way_ too big. There’s no way…oh, Kageyama and Hinata can’t fight _that_ …”

“Hey.” Noya takes Asahi’s face in his hands, turning his head to look at him, noting the disgruntled expressions of techs near them. “I want you to watch this fight, okay?” Asahi shakes his head—or tries to, but Noya tightens his grip, forcing Asahi to face him.

“Watch this fight. I’m going to prove to you that you can believe in our pilots and in Tyrant Omega. They can do it. They’re _going_ to do it. Trust in them and trust in my work.” Noya’s eyes soften at the pleading look on Asahi’s face.

“I’ll be sick, I can’t watch—”

Noya closes his eyes and presses their foreheads together, standing on his tip toes and pulling Asahi down. Their noses brush and Asahi nearly shies away at the intimacy, but settles down when Noya keeps the contact for several deep breaths.

“Sometimes,” Noya murmurs. “Sometimes I wish we had aptitude as pilots. Not because I want to fight the kaiju—I’m not nearly that brave—but so that I could understand you, and have you understand me.” Asahi watches the smile twitch at the edge of Noya’s mouth. “Must be so easy for them, with the Ghost Drift and all. I wish I could help you just a little, with this—”

Asahi touches Noya’s cheek and he jolts, eyes fluttering open.

“You do help me, you know,” Asahi murmurs back. “I wouldn’t have lasted this long here without you. I think we understand each other more than you’re inclined to believe. I’ll watch the battle. Just this once.” Noya leans into his touch.

“Okay,” he agrees in a small voice.

They turn their attention back to the full display, where Strike and AA have engaged the kaiju which, thankfully, appears to be unable to move fast. Apocalypto Alpha is doing most of the damage, taking off chunks of horn when the bullets connect at the right angle, while Gold Strike keeps it occupied and off the trail of Tyrant Omega, creeping behind it in its trademark hunched stance. The small, dark figure is obscured by black ocean water, absorbing light with its organic skin, rather than reflecting the light off metal. AA’s coloration is a distraction in itself, too bright and unnatural in an ocean environment.

When Omega charges, it is with a sudden gain in speed from the slow creeping, surprising the entirety of Mission Control. One saber crunches through a gathering of spikes on the kaiju’s elbow, knocking them clean off, while the other slices through the belly, leaving a gaping wound spilling blood and some unidentifiable organ. Omega slides beneath the kaiju and safely out the other side, sabers retracting into the hilts attached to its hands. ‘Dandelion’ shrieks with pained fury, but Tyrant Omega has already dropped to all fours and submerged itself halfway in the ocean, dark skin camouflaging it from the weak eyes of the kaiju.

While it swings its head wildly to search for the new aggressor, Strike loads heavy rounds into its exposed back, AA charging it and firing at the slash in its stomach, severely worsening the wound. Too slow to turn back around, AA is able to knock the kaiju on its side and fire into its exposed stomach while it flails. However, the position leaves Apocalypto Alpha vulnerable to attacks from Dandelion’s clawed paws, which it uses to its advantage. The front paws knock away AA’s gun while the back paws shove her off balance, falling into the ocean. Both kaiju and Jaeger struggle to their feet. It seems like it might be a test of speed rather than strength before Omega intervenes.

With a surprisingly agile leap, Omega hurls itself at the mass of spikes around the kaiju’s head, sabers clearing the way. Switching from sword to hands, Omega grips at two large spikes, forcing Dandelion’s head back while it thrashes wildly. Two dead-on shots from Gold Strike and the kaiju’s brains are splattered into the Pacific. The thrashing dies down and Tyrant Omega drops the kaiju. Apocalypto Alpha fires one final round through its skull for good measure, and Saeko confirms its lack of life signs, a wild grin on her face.

“I’d say something about this mission,” she begins, “but honestly, I don’t know what to say. One thing’s for sure, though—I’m sorry for ever doubting Omega for a second. Holy _shit_.”

Routine congratulations are exchanged all around, a few techs staying in place to coordinate the return of auxiliary base members and the Jaegers, but the mood has changed from tense to light with relief. Asahi releases his hands from the fists they had subconsciously balled into. Noya whistles.

“Can’t say I’m unhappy with the result,” he says, puffing out his chest and oh, right, that’s his _child_ , after all. “I think Tyrant Omega has made quite the debut. And on a Cat. Four, too!”

He punches Asahi good-naturedly in the side. “Told ya.”

And surprisingly enough, Asahi does feel a little better. It was comforting to know that everyone else was holding their breath, starting to sweat when Apocalypto Alpha lost her footing, letting out a collective exhale when it was all over. He’s glad that other people feared with him. And Omega _had_ been amazing—there was no Jaeger team out there that could do what Tyrant Omega had done. Asahi tells Noya this, and the scientist turns a little pink, sticking his nose in the air.

“Naturally! I had a hand in his creation. A rather large hand. Of course he’d perform beyond expectations.” But he’s secretly pleased, Asahi can tell.

Asahi leaves Noya to celebrate his success with the returning pilots, preferring the quiet of their shared bay instead. Noya accepts this without question, knowing Asahi has faced a lot of stressors today and needs to calm down. It’s a good façade.

Asahi turns to his massive equation with an ominous look, pulling up the latest results of the base’s sensors. “Over-reacting sensors, huh?” He mutters darkly. “That changes things; that changes _a lot_ of things…”

 

\---------------

 

“Dibs on first shower!”

Daichi humors Koushi’s childish declaration as he skips ahead, glancing back at Daichi with a playful look. Daichi raises an eyebrow, and Koushi shoots him the trademark grin that always melts Daichi’s cold heart. (The cold heart that he _absolutely has_ , despite Koushi’s claims that he’s a ‘softie’ after the fond way he tousled the newbie pilots’ hair when they got out of their Jaegers.)

The Drift had been so strong today—for all three of them. Having bared theirs souls to each other, Daichi and Koushi Drifted to almost ‘absolute synch’, as Michimiya had dubbed Kageyama and Hinata’s straight line level of connection. Daichi felt Koushi more intimately, understood every twitch and change in his body, every flicker of thought as if it were his own. They had been able to pull off that trick with knocking over the kaiju solely because of that connection. Even though they had gotten pretty close to being in trouble, the run felt good. Clean.

Actually, Daichi was feeling pretty energetic himself. The Ghost Drift is a live wire, Koushi not bothering to conceal any of his thoughts or feelings and _wow_ , that shower would feel nice right now. Daichi locks their room absentmindedly, hooking himself into Koushi’s train of thought about Kageyama and Hinata. There’s the slightest tendril of nervousness at how quickly they’re evolving, how quickly they’ll overtake Daichi and Koushi, but far stronger than that is the pride in them, as if those kids really did belong to them. It’s a warm feeling that Daichi returns. Their first meeting and squabble seems like a whole different lifetime when even just today, Kageyama reacted to Tsukishima’s antagonism towards Hinata and Hinata had bristled at Saeko’s implication that Kageyama didn’t have the skill to take on a kaiju in close combat.

It’s a little dangerous, that connection. They’d clearly experienced awkwardness about being tied so closely together already, and they only seemed to be growing closer. Daichi sends a silent prayer that if the bond is to evolve, it will be requited. He can’t imagine how disastrous it would be for one of them to fall for the other and not have their feelings returned. Kageyama, especially, is a danger if he is to have his emotions tampered with.

A hum across the bond stirs Daichi from his dark train of thought. Koushi’s humming—it’s an oldie that Daichi catches onto pretty quickly, bouncing the chorus right back at his partner. He can feel Koushi smiling, amusement and love flowing Daichi’s way.

Koushi gasps when he feels hands at his hips, spinning around so fast he almost falls over. Daichi steadies him with a mischievous grin. Koushi still has shampoo in his hair, sticking it up at odd angles. Daichi shapes it into a mohawk, Koushi fixing him with the most disdainful look he can muster while internally laughing. Daichi pushes him back under the spray and Koushi closes his eyes, trusting. Daichi washes the soap from his hair, rubbing his scalp with the amount of roughness that makes Koushi melt into him.

When Daichi pulls him out of the shower stream and into his arms, Koushi nestles his face into Daichi’s neck, kissing at his throat and jaw lazily, too content to suck at the tender skin. But then Daichi’s hands slip below his lower back and Koushi gasps a little, pulling back to meet Daichi’s half-lidded eyes and his own gaze sharpens.

“You’re trouble, Sawamura Daichi,” Koushi declares.

“You wouldn’t have it any other way,” Daichi rumbles, leaning in for a kiss. Koushi meets him halfway with a smile on his lips.

 

\---------------

 

Kageyama's not entirely sure how he got roped into this situation. He's decidedly uncomfortable and awkward. The others are also decidedly uncomfortable and awkward. The only one who seems oblivious to all of this is Hinata, babbling away like the too-happy idiot he is.  
  
 _How did he get roped into this?_ A stupid question. Obviously, Hinata was involved. And once Hinata latched onto an idea, he put his full attention and effort into bringing about its existence, all 900% of his power.  
  
Kageyama can't remember what jumpstarted Hinata's urge to meet up with his old buddies from high school that also worked on the base. One of them, Izumi, had texted Hinata after their first battle, telling him how amazing the fight was and especially how Tyrant Omega was all anyone could talk about now. Still riding the high from the post-mission party, Hinata had stayed up practically all night, texting back and forth with his friend, snickering in his bed and rolling around, making the springs squeak. It got loud enough to the point where Kageyama hurled a pillow with perfect accuracy straight at Hinata's face, transferring all his rage and irritation across the Drift in the same moment. Hinata cooled down a little after that, and Kageyama managed to get a good night's rest.  
  
Then, of all things, the next morning Hinata leapt onto Kageyama's bed (it kept _happening_ ), eyes bloodshot and bags underneath them from staying up all night, spilling out "their" plans for the day at a mile a minute. Kageyama hadn't actually _agreed_ to go to lunch with Hinata's childhood friends. He didn't know them, and furthermore, it'd be awkward, wouldn't it? He could be frightening and socially inept at times, after all.  
  
"Pffft. You're always socially awkward and scary, Kageyama. How is this any different than how you normally are?" Hinata, that little shit, _giggled_ at Kageyama's perfectly rational excuses.

“This is the dumbest of any dumb ideas you have ever come up with, dumbass,” Kageyama growled. “I’m not going. I have better things to do than make petty conversation.”

“How many times did you use ‘dumb’ in that sentence anyway?”

“ _Oi_.”

“Ack! But I already promised Izumin and Kouji that you would go! And they’re bringing two friends of their own, anyway, so it’s not like you’ll be the only awkward one.”

“That doesn’t make it any better! Now get over here so I can beat the crap out of you.”

“But—” Hinata winces, allowing himself to be caught and for his head to be squeezed mercilessly. He swats futilely at Kageyama’s hand before looking at him with an injured expression. “But I really wanted Izumin and Kouji to meet you. All I ever talk about with them is piloting, but it’s super hard to tell them how scary and impressive my co-pilot is when they’ve never seen you before. You’re an important part of my life, they’re an important part of my life; makes no sense that you would never meet.” He mumbles the last part, grimacing, like it was hard to admit.

Kageyama’s grip loosens in surprise. It’s not like he didn’t know Hinata thought he was important or cool or a person he sought to overcome, but saying it out loud like that…it made his stomach flip and his face heat up. Honestly, he felt way more uncomfortable than before.

“I’m not a trophy to be shown off,” he mumbles in response, unable to hear himself over the roaring in his ears. His hand is just resting on Hinata’s head now, and his fingers twitch, as if to stroke Hinata’s head. Alarmed, he draws his hand back against his chest before he does something _really_ stupid. Like in the dream.

_(The dream, the dream—the dream that still haunted him with the so-believable reality of each breath and touch, the yearning that drove him to the edge of his sanity. The dream that never could be.)_

Hinata’s eyes follow his hand, which is also _really not_ helping. “Of course not,” he murmurs in reply. When did it get so quiet and heavy in their quarters? The atmosphere is so thick that Kageyama can feel himself start to suffocate. He wants to escape, wants to leave the room, wants to get closer to Hinata, wants to bury his head in a pillow, _wants to touch him again…_

“I would never consider you to be an object. We’re partners aren’t we? A team? I want to go up to Izumin and Kouji and say ‘See? Isn’t this guy so amazing? He’s stronger than me and he’s great at piloting and I’m really happy that he’s my co-pilot!’ They keep telling me to introduce you, if you really are so incredible.” Hinata ducks his chin and headbumps Kageyama in the chest softly, leaning his chin against the same hand Kageyama had touched him with before and peering up, making the best puppy-dog eyes he can muster.

Kageyama hates how he jumps at the touch, adrenaline dripping through his muscles and making his heart race. Every quickened breath ruffles Hinata’s bangs, the proximity making Kageyama’s mind swim and his sense of rationality fizzle out. Just one touch wouldn’t hurt, right? He hadn’t touched Hinata since that night at the outlook other than passing brushes or a steadying hand at his elbow. It was okay if he caved this once…

Tentatively, he reaches out one hand, drawing his fingers along the back of Hinata’s head slowly. Hinata tenses at the contact for a moment, but then relaxes into it, blinking slowly at Kageyama. The contact is immediately soothing to Kageyama, too. All the tension and built-up emotion in his chest drains out with a long exhale as he works his fingers through Hinata’s hair. He’s not sure why he imagined the spikes to be bristly or anything other than pillow-mussed curls of softness. Hinata reminds Kageyama a bit of a wild animal, only ever tame in small moments, orange fur never quite lying flat.

Kageyama is so grateful for the barrier between their minds. They’re both holding their end of the Drift away from each other, the only feeling slipping across a hum of mutual contentment. Kageyama thinks he might scare Hinata away from him if he were to feel the warmth billowing around Kageyama’s mind, driving his heart to calm itself and his expression to smooth. He _needed_ this, which is actually terrifying, but he’s determined not to think too hard about it.

“Well?” Hinata mumbles, attempting to sound annoyed. “Are you gonna go or what?” He’s leaning into Kageyama’s touch, fighting to keep a petulant grimace on his face. His eyes slip closed though, and he sighs happily, clearly not all that intent on an answer.

Once more, Kageyama stills his hand, and he’s already cupping the back of Hinata’s head and leaning forward before he realizes what he’s doing.

Jerking away in horror, the fog lifts from Kageyama’s mind and he’s moving away, away, _away_ from a baffled Hinata, who cocks his head, looking somewhat hurt.

“I’ll go,” Kageyama blurts, walking backwards towards their door, fumbling with the handle. “I’ll go just—just give me a minute.”

He flees, cursing himself for not following the flight instinct in the first place and giving in to his attraction. Oh god, he would have done it too; would have just kissed Hinata like they did that all the time, like it was perfectly normal to have such a relationship between pilots. He burns all over—hands, heart, throat, eyes—he feels as hurt as Hinata looked. It was just lust, just the work of his unfulfilled sex drive, nothing more, because it _couldn’t_ be anything else, he wouldn’t _let it_ be anything else.

And yet, despite one long run and resolve in his mind to avoid any unnecessary thoughts of or touches with Hinata, Kageyama still found himself dragged on the damn _lunch date_ with four strangers and one hyperactive source of troubles.

Only, they weren’t all strangers.

It would have been exponentially better if they were all strangers.

Kindaichi stared down Kageyama like he was something out of a nightmare. Kunimi might have been green in the face. The tension between the three was palpable and Kouji looked supremely awkward, like he was about to witness a fight to the death. Hinata, immune to the atmosphere of any situation, and Izumin, ignoring the stiffness of the rest of his group, greeted each other with hugs and cheerful small talk.

It wasn’t like things were exactly _bad_ between Kageyama and his rotation teammates—after all, they had acknowledged him at his and Hinata’s graduation ceremony—but they hadn’t made nice either. Instead, they were left with the strange in-between of ‘I don’t like you, but I’m also not going to be cruel to you either’.

“You didn’t say that the pilot you knew was _Hinata_ , Kouji,” Kindaichi manages in a strained voice.

“I didn’t know that you knew him, either,” Kouji replies, equally as strained.

“How nice!” Izumi interrupts in an overly cheerful voice. “We won’t have to make introductions, then.”

Hinata looks over Kindaichi and Kunimi as if seeing them for the first time. “You’re the ones who used to torment Kageyama back in his cadet days, right? The same ones who harassed us in the elevator?” He asks bluntly.

Everyone, even Izumi, winces at the question. Kindaichi and Kunimi look supremely uncomfortable, shifting their gaze awkwardly between the pilots and their companions. “We can’t exactly deny that,” Kunimi mutters. There’s a beat of silence.

“Well, that’s in the past now, isn’t it?” Hinata shrugs, bouncing over to them and invading their personal space. “What’d you bring?”

Kageyama watches in shocked silence as Hinata immediately involves himself in an altercation, slightly hysterical on the cadets’ part. He whines and attempts to peer in the large brown bag Kunimi is carrying while Kindaichi does his best to shoo Hinata away. Persistent as ever, Hinata makes up for height by jumping, shoving his face as close to Kindaichi's as possible to argue.

Turning back to Hinata’s childhood friends, equally as shocked, Kageyama dips his head politely. “I’m Kageyama, Hinata’s co-pilot—not that he bothered to introduce us. I’m sorry that we have to meet in such an awkward fashion.” He’s not quite sure why he has to apologize for Hinata’s mess.

The two bow deeper and introduce themselves as well, looking at Kageyama in awe. Kouji is the first to break into a grin. “So you’re the infamous Kageyama-san, huh? Shouyou never stops talking about you; it’s about time we got to see you in the flesh. You’re as tragically handsome as he said you’d be.”

Kageyama doesn’t flush pink, because that would be childish of him.

Izumi matches Kouji’s grin. “To be honest, though, you’re not what I expected. I guess…I guess I kind of imagined someone with more of a ‘grrrr!’ feeling, you know? Someone who was always scowling and yelling and beating Hinata to a pulp. You seem to be more of the ‘irritated but tolerant’ types who’s willing to grudgingly put up with Shouyou’s antics.” Kouji nods in agreement.

“You may not think that after seeing what we were like when we first met,” Kageyama grimaces, imagining how annoying Hinata had been to him—and how he often still was.

Kouji and Izumi take one look at his face and burst out laughing. “Your expression says it all,” Izumi snickers.

“Tell me, tell me—how god awful is Shouyou as a roommate and co-pilot? He’s like a flea isn’t he?” Kouji snickers.

Kageyama rolls his eyes and relaxes, feeling much more at ease with these two and their gentle teasing. “He’s loud and competitive—even though we’re fighting together, he tries to make everything into a contest. And Drifting with him was hell at first. He’s so hyperactive! He talks in his sleep, snores, is way too clingy, eats everything in sight, absolutely impossible to ignore…” Kageyama trails off with a huff. “I’m amazed we clicked after all the trouble we went through.”

“I’m not,” Kouji says. “It’s impossible not to love him, right?”

The look in his eyes is far, _far_ too clever for someone who Kageyama had just met. Kageyama was wrong—these two were extremely dangerous and he had to get out of there fast. The panicked look in his eyes must have shown, because Izumi shoots him a soft look.

“Kouji’s teasing. What he really means is that we’ve seen Shouyou grow to love and care for you, even though we haven’t been present in your professional lives. It’s been a wild ride, but we’re glad that you two finally resolved your differences and are good friends now.” Izumi claps Kageyama on the shoulder amiably and directs him over to the other three members of their party. For some reason or another, they’re sitting down, Hinata sprawled across Kindaichi’s lap, trying to get at the pork bun Kunimi is holding in the air, away from him, looking mildly distressed.

“He means business when it comes to meat buns,” Kageyama says to them. It’s an olive branch.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Kindaichi replies evenly, allowing Kageyama to yank Hinata from his lap by his jacket collar. The expressions on their faces shift from cautious to curious, and the hostile air around the group evaporates.

Lunch is a boisterous affair with such a mismatched group. Each pair brought enough to share with the whole group—meat buns, fish and rice, and some kind of broth-based soup recipe Izumi had picked up from a foreign technician friend of his. Hinata plants himself between Kageyama and Kindaichi, taking to involving himself in everyone’s conversation and drawing all the attention to himself. Kouji and Izumi act as the mediators among the group, keeping the conversation from dying down or becoming awkward while also caring to drag Kageyama into the fold of the group.

Kindaichi and Kunimi, surprisingly, take to Hinata in an odd, teasing kind of way. They find it particularly amusing to dangle food in front of Hinata and test to see if his reaction time is fast enough to snag it (it is). There’s general merriment among the companions, but Kageyama feels a little out of place.

Hinata is so at ease with these people. He accepts their familiar touches and tones and gestures, even from the two he hadn’t formally met. An arm slung over his shoulder and a noogie from Kindaichi, an annoyed ‘tsk’ from Kunimi who brushes a little rice from his hair (“Honestly, who even gets rice stuck in a place like that?”); cheek-pinching from Kouji and a lap to lie in after eating from Izumi. They all interact with Hinata so easily, so informally, while Kageyama can’t even bring himself to let their shoulders brush.

It’s jealousy, he realizes. He’s jealous of these people who can get so close to Hinata when _he’s_ the one who deserves the closeness—after all, who rode alongside Hinata in the Jaeger? Who had a mental bridge with him? Who had a deeper connection with him than any normal human being should?

Why does he have to hold back when he deserves so much more?

It’s immature and wrong of him to think of Hinata as his, especially after that stunt he pulled in their quarters that morning, but dammit, Hinata is _something_ to him. Perhaps it’s the fact that the only close bonds he ever made ended in loneliness and suffering for both parties that makes him want this partnership to work. Kageyama doesn’t want Hinata stolen away when they’ve got such a good thing going. When he really feels that he’s found an important person to him, too.

Then the conversation shifts to him and Hinata and things get strange. All four of them want to know what it was like, battling a kaiju in the Jaeger and coming out alive. Hinata gestures wildly and grossly elaborates how cool it was, Kageyama stepping in every now and then to correct him or put his two cents in. They’re curious about the controls, about the mechanics, about the Drift, about…oh, what did you call it?

“The Ghost Drift,” Hinata laughs. “Oh yeah, that’s pretty neat too.”

“I just don’t understand,” Kunimi sighs. “So…you can see into each other’s minds?”

“Eh…that’s a bit too simple and straightforward,” Hinata explains. “It’s more like we can send psychic messages to each other and feel each other’s mental and physical condition. Like, I could tell where Kageyama was exactly and what he was feeling, even if he was floors away.”

There’s a murmur of awe. Hinata nods enthusiastically. “Right, but that’s pretty hard to do—even we’re still working at it. It’s way easier to just touch your co-pilot and feel how they’re doing.”

Hinata touches Kageyama’s knee before Kageyama can snap the wall into place completely. He panics internally, but it’s too late. Hinata saw it, just the flash of his raw emotions, but that was more than enough. His jealousy and resentment of Hinata’s friends. The unfairness of resisting his attraction to Hinata. His fierce, uncalled for protectiveness of Hinata and just how important he was to Kageyama.

Hinata’s eyes widen a little, but he plays his poker face perfectly. He gasps dramatically, as if scandalized, and loudly declares that Kageyama was a giant pervert and _no_ , Izumin did _not_ look good in a dress and high heels. Kageyama blushes in anger and embarrassment like he ought to, and the group laughs, conversation rolling back along.

Kunimi notices, as he does in all things. Kageyama’s eyes, having scarcely left Hinata since they sat down, now refuse to look at him. And Hinata, careful to disguise his glances at his co-pilot, loses his stealth, and the smile on his face wavers a little when he looks for too long. They go their separate ways an hour or so later, after exchanging numbers and farewells. It’s a light-hearted goodbye, but once the group of four is out of earshot, Kunimi turns to a somewhat down Izumi.

“You were right, Izumi,” he murmurs. “They’re a tragedy waiting to happen.”

“Oh, to be young and in love,” Kouji adds, smiling softly. “Don’t count them out just yet, Kunimi. Something has to break, eventually.”

 

\--------------

 

Strangely enough, Koushi wants to see Kageyama and Hinata that night, too. He’s evasive when asked why, promising that it will be a pleasant surprise. They are to arrive at Asahi and Nishinoya’s bay just after nightfall. Confused but trusting in their senior, Kageyama and Hinata do as they’re told.

When they show up, the party is already in full swing. Noya and Tanaka have rebuilt one of the ventilation shafts into a kind of chimney, and there’s a roaring fire in a makeshift fireplace, warming the entire bay. Saeko is fiddling with the radio stations on an old speaker system, tapping her foot to a song she finds particularly agreeable. Koushi is wrapped in a fluffy scarf, running mugs of hot chocolate to the members of the kaiju response team, while Daichi stirs a pot of the stuff over the fire and snaps at Noya not to make the inferno any larger. Everyone is there, save for the Marshal and Takeda-sensei and with the addition of Kiyoko.

Kageyama and Hinata are stunned. True, it had been getting much colder out as of late, but they had never expected a full-scale winter party in the K-science bay, of all places.

Koushi spies them and gestures to an old sofa that had been lying unused in the back of the bay, now placed near the fire. Tsukishima is already situated in a large armchair, Yamaguchi perched on one of the armrests. The girls have commandeered another sofa, and Tanaka is dragging an ottoman and a coffee table over.

“Suga-san, what is going on?” Hinata asks in amazement.

“Exactly what it looks like,” Koushi laughs. “It’s a winter get-together; we have one every year. It’s just a time to hang out and talk, de-stress, you know the drill.” He delivers the last two mugs to Asahi and Tanaka, trotting back over to Daichi, who whispers something in his ear, making Koushi giggle.

They’re absurdly happy today, Hinata thinks, wondering if maybe they had been looking forward to this celebration for a while. They sure seemed excited, bumping shoulders and kicking each other’s feet mischievously.

“A-hem!” Noya directs the attention to himself, and all the side conversations come to a halt.

“Kageyama and Hinata don’t know how this works, so I’ll explain what our winter party is all about. Basically, we’re trying to get to know each other a little better, especially since we work in different areas of the base and don’t always have time to chat. So, we each tell a story or something interesting about ourselves to start, or someone asks you a question and we go from there. Pretty simple stuff. I’ll start.”

Noya talks about the trip he had gone on a month or so prior to Tyrant Omega’s first mission to Tokyo. While there, he had exchanged data with Yaku, a close friend of his, regarding the nerve fiber suits Yaku’s pilots were using. They had finally got the prototypes to work, and Noya was surprised to say that the results, although still showing success, were completely different from Kageyama’s or Hinata’s.

“It’s really weird! I mean, to be fair, the Jaegers and pilots are completely different, but you’d think the nerve fiber would work the same way. Mori’s working that kid of his to death trying to finalize the suits. He really should go easier on him. Lev’s an absolute genius, but he gets too eager and makes simple mistakes that really drive Mori up the wall. They’re working on making the nerve fiber more durable since their Rangers are a bit rough in their piloting, or so I’ve heard. If it turns out well, he’ll send Lev to us for a couple months to fix up our suits. The kid’s pretty excited to work on Omega after the fight against ‘Dandelion’.”

Kageyama and Hinata nod eagerly, happy for any advancement in their Jaeger’s design. The discussion turns to Tanaka, who recalls an amusing incident involving the Tokyo head mechanic, Tora, the fire emergency system and Jaeger coolant system of Tokyo’s base, a few trustworthy wrenches, and a dream of making it snow inside the base. There was a reason that keycards were now necessary to access the inner workings of the Tokyo base and that Tanaka was transferred permanently to the Miyagi base. Asahi jumps in with a story involving Moniwa-san, the owner of The Iron Wall, nearly being arrested and imprisoned for terrorism, while Aone apprehended the real, armed terrorists plotting to attack the Miyagi base. With his bare hands.

Tsukishima blatantly refuses to add anything to the conversation, despite numerous attempts to solicit any kind of story from him, but Yamaguchi volunteers two short stories: one about his pretty little hometown and one about young Tsukishima and his elder brother that he had heard from their mom. Tsukishima grimaces his way through the second story but doesn’t berate Yamaguchi for talking for him. In fact, he ends up making room on the large chair when Yamaguchi squeezes next to him, looking for forgiveness. He is forgiven with a soft huff and a sliver more room on his side of the chair.

Kiyoko is encouraged to share her tale of rescuing Michimiya from a group of guys harassing her on the street by kicking the shit out of them in heels. Michimiya adds that she had asked Kiyoko to escort her through the bad part of town on her way to an important scientific conference in town, and now Kiyoko had her own class in training bodyguards for important officials and scientists at the base. Furthermore, those same guys had tried to enter the Jaeger program, but one look at Kiyoko in the Kwoon Room and the blood drained from their faces almost faster than they sprinted from the base.

“Hey Saeko-san,” Michimiya wonders thoughtfully. “Didn’t you know the pilots of Small Giant pretty well? I think Hinata might want to hear about them.”

“Oh god, not this again,” Saeko sighs, cheeks turning pink. “I only knew one of them, and I didn’t even know him that well—”

“Saeko-neechan! You have to tell me about him!” Hinata jumps in, eyes shining. “The pilots of Small Giant are so amazing!”

“Fine, fine,” she agreed, waving a hand. “I’ll tell you about him.”

“Well for one, he didn’t start out all that great. Short guy, not a lot to his build, but he had a passion that outshone guys three times his size. He stood out in spirit, even if his results weren’t the best. Anyway, one day, he gets it in his head that he wants the Marshal to Drift with him, help him train. Of course, the rotation leader laughed in his face, but he was nothing if not persistent. Oh, and take note that this was the old Marshal Ukai—the one that’s famous around the world.

“He bothered the rotation leader, the techs, the scientists…anyone who had a link to the Marshal. Every time he was shut down. Then he came to me. He told me about his test results and how he trained—naturally, I knew all this already, I’d been keeping a close eye on him—and he asked if he could Drift with the Marshal in order to train. He was polite about the whole thing, too. I thought, hey, what the heck; he’s been trying so long, why not ask the Marshal? I did tell him that no means no if the Marshal refused, though.

“And, lucky for him, the Marshal was curious enough to try it. One whole day of practically straight test Drifts, and the Marshal decided to take this ‘small giant’ under his wing. I guess there was something in his mind that moved Marshal Ukai. I’ll never know why; he never told me. But after only a few months of individual training, the ‘small giant’ was ready to be certified as a Ranger—even faster than the regular program. According to the Marshal, he had been giving his co-pilot too much leeway; that was his problem. Imagine that! Trusting your partner too much.

“Anyway, he thanked me profusely for taking a chance on him and he came to visit me every now and then. I watched every single one of his missions. Man, he was a good guy. Super cool, too.”

“What she’s not saying,” Kiyoko adds, “is that she had a massive crush on him and obsessed over every little detail of his life. Luckily, he found her obsession to be cute instead of creepy.”

“Kiyoko! How could you betray me like that? It was _not_ a creepy obsession, I just cared about his wellbeing!” Saeko wails, gently punching Kiyoko in the arm, but Kiyoko only smiles with a hint of slyness.

“What was he like?” Hinata asked, wonder in his eyes.

Saeko straightens up and clears her throat. “Ah, well, he was pretty loud. Never did anything halfway. Loved and trusted by everyone on the kaiju response team. He was always trying to make himself and those around him better. Actually, he reminds me a little of you, when you’re piloting Omega and you get really into it.”

Hinata’s eyes are definitely sparkling now. Kageyama looks a little confused. “He didn’t fall in battle, right? So where is he now?”

Saeko hums thoughtfully. “That’s true, but this was back when the Tokyo base was the only one around. I think he’s moved to Australia or California now, but I can’t be sure. Either way, he’s keeping under the radar and we aren’t in contact anymore.”

“Who was the point team before Daichi-san and Suga-san, then?” Kageyama muses.

“Ah, that would be Akaashi and Bokuto,” Koushi replies. “They’re the real masters of this base, all-around experts who’ve ridden together for far longer than Daichi and I. They’re in Korea now, if I’m not mistaken.”

“That reminds me,” Hinata pipes up. “You never told us how you two met and became pilots. You didn’t know each other in high school, right?”

“That’s right,” Daichi agrees. “We met here at the base.”

A brief look around shows Daichi that their story actually holds interest for some of the group and he laughs. “Oh come on. You don’t seriously want to hear our boring tale of bad first impressions and lucky scrapes, do you?”

“Sure we do,” Tanaka says. “I love romcoms.” Noya elbows him in the gut.

Daichi rolls his eyes. “Alright, well if _Hinata_ wants to know.”

“I signed up for the Jaeger Program as soon as the Miyagi base was formed. I’d planned to go off university, but ever since the kaiju entered our world, things like degrees and jobs don’t really make sense to me. I decided to try out as a pilot more on a whim than anything else—I didn’t think I could really make it, but I wanted to do whatever I could to help stop the invasion. Lo and behold, it turned out I fell above average on almost all aspects, except Drift compatibility. I _can_ Drift with various partners, but not very well.

“Still, a new base like this needed soldiers, and since I seemed to be half a step in the right direction, they threw me in a Mark II with another cadet and had us run defense after around a year of training. Actually, I switched partners quite frequently, as they either couldn’t take the stress or the conditioning or a variety of other reasons. The Marshal Ukai—junior—started to trust me because of how reliable I was in a Jaeger and put me on flank for Akaashi and Bokuto, back when they were around. But the lack of a solid partner affected my performance. It’s really hard to keep piloting well if the person you’re connected so deeply to keeps getting uprooted and replaced. It started taking a toll on my psyche. I probably would’ve been pulled out if it weren’t for Koushi showing up.” Daichi shoots Koushi a fond look and nudges his shoulder.

“Please, please; you give me too much credit,” Koushi dismisses. “We’re just lucky we found each other in the first place.”

Shifting to make himself more comfortable, Koushi continues the story. “As you know, I came here after I was cleared psychologically and given a clean bill of health, after my family died and my village was destroyed.” There are solemn nods or looks of gentle condolence from all assembled.

Koushi smiles sadly. “I wanted to become a pilot so that no one would have to suffer the same fate as I did due to the incompetence of the protectors. My only regret is that I did not do so early enough to change the fate of my loved ones. But that’s in the past.” He straightens up.

“As for how Daichi and I met…” He shoots Daichi a sly grin and his partner shifts uncomfortably. “Well there I was, only a few months into my training, ready for my first trial in the Kwoon Room with one of the base’s top Rangers—a special event only for our rotation—on my way to the Kwoon Room. You know, where I was supposed to be. I wasn’t exactly sure where it was, but I wandered around in the general area, figuring that I’d hear the noise from my rotation or ask for directions.

“Then, out of nowhere, this dark, frightening man whips around the corner, all brooding and serious energy. He knocks into me, nearly sending me straight to the floor, and although at first he apologized sincerely, he seemed to realize I didn’t have my cadet jacket on. Then he started chewing me out, telling me how I ‘wasn’t supposed to be there’ and that this was a ‘high-level area only’ and ‘regular clearance staff shouldn’t be wandering around where they aren’t allowed’ and blah, blah, _blah_. I was frozen still with fear, but then I remembered that I had my ID tag.

“So I show this guy the ID tag and he snatches it, skims it once, twice, and turns the most interesting shade of pink I’ve ever seen to this day. He mumbled an apology and hurried past me, leaving poor little me confused and worried that I was going to be booted from the Jaeger Program immediately.” Koushi laughs at the end and Daichi buries his head in his hands as the rest of the group snigger or giggle amongst themselves.

“I was really stressed out, okay? How was I supposed to know you were a recruit with his jacket in the wash?” Daichi feebly defends himself. Koushi squeezes his hand comfortingly.

“I forgive you. Anyway, as you can imagine, there was quite a lot of awkward tension in the Kwoon Room that day. We were both mortified that we had to be within close proximity for the entire day after such a horrendous first encounter. But, when we sparred and got past the tension, our spirits aligned and I felt this intense connection with the scary guy from earlier. We could read each other’s moves, and instead of fighting, as it was with other recruits, sparring with Daichi felt like dancing. In the end, he was able to knock me down, but even then, I felt euphoric instead of depressed. I was so sure that the feeling was just because he was a Ranger, but then he wanted me to try out as his permanent co-pilot…how could I say no after a connection like that?”

Koushi remembers that first battle so well. The clever, self-confident smile on Daichi’s face as he faced off against Koushi. The silent dialogue between them that said to forget first impressions and start anew. Koushi opened himself to Daichi and vice versa—they circled each other like cats, but each strike was a question. Who are you? What kind of person are you? Are we the same? Are we different? Do I need your soul to fight alongside mine?

They answered in touches of skin and sweat and in the collision of their strength and strategy. The dance flowed without beat or choreography, just simple conversations between their bodies. And when Daichi struck Koushi down, the staff just an extension of his body, resting solid over Koushi’s heart, he knew. That impossible handsome and terrifying man above him had to belong to him. They were Drift compatible—more even then the forced connection between Koushi and his rotation teammates. Koushi could Drift with damn near anyone, as was his gift, but Daichi felt different. Better.

And when he extended a hand to help Koushi to his feet, introducing himself as Sawamura Daichi, flank team Ranger, Koushi was sure he had smiled so warmly back as his heart skipped a beat.

There’s a suspiciously loud cough from Tsukishima’s direction. Koushi blushes, realizing he had trailed off nostalgically. “Ah, pardon me. Well, the rest of the story isn’t all that interesting. We ran flank together for about a year, Asahi joined, and the entire base grew from a fledgling to its own animal. Obviously, we’re still just a secondary base, but we’re in the running to be expanded and upgraded to primary status. After Daichi and I fended off a kaiju that managed to escape the point team and keep it from making landfall, the Marshal commissioned the triplet Jaegers. We got Apocalypto Alpha not too long after. Besides one incident where I chased the rabbit, it’s been smooth sailing, even though Daichi and I have more responsibilities as the new point team.”

“You’re pretty gifted for such a new point team,” Kageyama volunteers softly.

“Ah, thank you,” Koushi accepts. “It’s only been a year, but we hope to lead you two flanks for many more.”

“Amen to that,” Saeko agrees, slamming her cup onto the coffee table. “It’s been grand, you lot, but some of us poor, over-worked souls have research to get to in the morning, and I for one value my sleep.” She stands up and stretches, various murmurs of agreement echoing her statement.

The entire group helps tidy up with a kind of satisfied lethargy. Hinata and Yamaguchi hang on their partners like koalas the entire time, provoking different levels of irritation and violence. The girls clean up without complaint, thanking Asahi and Noya for hosting with polite bows, much to the embarrassment of the scientists. Tanaka follows his sister out, yelling something about a package to be sent to their parents. The rest of the assembled bid their goodbyes, moving out of the K-science bay at their own pace. Daichi and Koushi follow Tsukishima and Yamaguchi, Daichi tugging Koushi close to him with an arm at his waist and Koushi leaning against him, sighing in contentment.

Behind them, Hinata watches in envy. “Daichi-san and Suga-san have so much trust and love in their bond. Even in their past—they’ve always had each other’s back and it seems like they never fight or argue or _anything_. I don’t get it, but I’m really jealous. I wish I had a relationship like that.”

Kageyama nods in agreement. It really would be nice to never fight with the person he was closest to. Not that he could really imagine having a completely happy and healthy relationship with someone like Hinata. He sneaks a glance at his co-pilot, pouting childishly and giving the retreating backs of their seniors his trademark ‘I won’t lose to you!’ glare.

Kageyama snorts. Yeah, there’s no way he could have what Daichi-san and Koushi-san had with Hinata. “It would be nice, wouldn’t it? Unfortunately, you’re an antagonistic idiot with no impulse control. Who would be able to tolerate you, anyway? I can barely manage it.”

Hinata snarls something in reply and launches himself onto Kageyama’s back, initiating an argument between them that escalates into a physical altercation quickly, and ironically enough, proves Kageyama’s point. Noya snickers and Asahi shakes his head.

“They’re probably too dumb to realize just what _kind_ of relationship Daichi and Suga have,” Asahi sighs.

“You got that right!” Noya crows. “Even though they’ve been giving off that annoyingly peppy ‘I got laid’ aura, Tobio and Shouyou are definitely not smart enough to figure it out. They can’t even figure _themselves_ out.”

Asahi shrugs. “Still, it’s nice to know that they’ve got each other. They may not realize it yet, but they rely on each other quite heavily, even outside of piloting—I don’t see them much and I still notice.”

Noya looks up at Asahi, mischievous. “Young love, eh?”

Asahi coughs and looks away. “Wouldn’t know a thing about it.”

“Aw, come on, Asahi,” Noya nudges him conspiratorially. “You’re telling me you were never, ever sweet on anyone?”

“I had studies to focus on and anxiety that made spending too much time with unfamiliar people highly stressful,” Asahi points out. “Where on earth would dating fit in?”

Noya pouts. “Well you don’t _have_ to date someone in order to like them. Actually, I don’t really care if you liked someone or not. Just tell me about someone you love, Asahi! Anyone! A friend or a romantic interest, it doesn’t matter. I just want to hear about a person that you really love!”

Noya smiles brightly, trying his hardest to look endearing to get his way. It’s a tactic he’s used before, one Asahi is soft to. True to form, Asahi smiles back gently, expression full of fondness for his small companion. There’s an unfurling in his chest, a sense of unusual confidence, and Asahi can’t even bring himself to stop his voice from saying the words.

“Isn’t it rather narcissistic to ask about yourself, Noya?”

 _That_ provokes a reaction. Noya’s eyes widen and the smile falters on his face. He manages to only squeak out a tiny “Asahi-sa—” before Asahi brushes a stray hair from his face and leans down to kiss Noya once, very softly. When he draws back, Asahi notes with interest the bright red flush that spreads across Noya’s face from the top of his ears to the tip of his nose. For once in his life, Nishinoya Yuu is speechless.

He is finally able to whisper a startled “Asahi-san, you—me? Really, me? Not…not a joke?”

Asahi laughs an unfamiliar, soft laugh that surprises both of them and makes Noya blush even harder. “No, never a joke. Not with you.” He ducks his head a little, trademark shyness showing through. “I really love you, Nishinoya.”

Noya goes completely still for a moment before attaching himself to Asahi’s shirt. “Asahi-san! I really, really love you, too! I think you’re really brave and really cool, even when you’re scared and you want to run away. I admire you so much, and I always hoped we’d become friends, but I…er, somehow in the process, I fell pretty hard for you.”

He peers up at Asahi, that same lively smile in place on his face, although the wildness in his eyes has calmed to a slow-burning affection. Asahi moves to cover his face, embarrassed, but Noya catches his hands, entwining their fingers.

“Asahi,” he murmurs. “Come here.”

Hesitantly, Asahi leans forward, and Noya stands on his tip-toes to kiss Asahi again, longer this time. Asahi had always thought Noya would love as passionately as he worked, but he’s gentle in his movements. He pulls at Asahi’s lower lip, but breaks the spell with a laugh when he feels the overgrown mess of Asahi’s unkempt beard. He squeezes Asahi’s hand to let him know everything is okay, he’s happy; they’re both happy.

“Come on, let’s go to bed,” Noya suggests, beaming. “There’s no reason to be standing here awkwardly in our lab. Don’t worry; I won’t jump you.”

“I seriously doubt that, Noya,” Asahi replies. “You’ve been known to jump all over anything that’s taller than you.”

Noya laughs in response. “Okay, good point. Oh, and Asahi?” He pulls the mathematician down to his level and murmurs in his ear:

“Call me Yuu from now on, okay?”

 

\-------------------------

 

Kageyama shuts the door and clicks the lock. He doesn’t like how final it sounds, echoing in the emptiness of their quarters.

Hinata hasn’t said a word to him since they settled their argument, choosing to walk in silence, glaring a hole through the floor from how hard he was thinking. It’s obvious Hinata wants to say something, but the length of silence is beginning to get awkward. Kageyama takes a breath. “Hey—”

“You know, everyone in the base has someone close to them,” Hinata interrupts. “Even outside the pilots. Saeko-neechan and Michimiya-san are partners in studying the Drift, and they’re also really friendly with Shimizu-san. Obviously, Asahi-san and Noya-san work together and balance each other out, but Tanaka-san also shares Tyrant Omega as a project with Noya-san. Even the Marshal is close with Takeda-sensei.”

“Your point?” Kageyama growls.

Hinata takes a deep breath. “Well, even though I said I’m envious of Daichi-san and Koushi-san, and I think everyone else has a much closer bond than we do, I’m still glad you’re my partner! I wouldn’t trade you for any of them, Kageyama, and I mean that!”

Kageyama can hardly see through the light shining in from the tiny window in their room, but he’s pretty sure Hinata is wild-eyed and completely stiff, as if waiting to be beaten up or worse, laughed at. Kageyama’s heart is beating hard—this constant elevation _cannot_ be healthy—but he’s far more distressed that this is always, _always_ Hinata’s reaction to him.

“Why do you do that?” He murmurs. “Every time you say something you’ve thought over for a while, you always act like I’m going to _attack_ you for speaking your mind.”

Hinata straightens up a little. “I…I just thought…that after today…”

He trails off but Kageyama knows what he’s talking about. That moment when Hinata caught him with his walls down. Kageyama’s throat closes up a little and he swallows thickly. “So?” He says too quickly, too defensively.

Hinata takes a step towards him. “You’re not mad?”

Kageyama barks a laugh. “I should be asking you that.”

Hinata shakes his head. “No, I don’t know why I would be. You value our partnership, right? If anything, that should make me happy. I just wanted to let you know I feel the same way.”

Kageyama’s face twists into a snarl. “There’s more to it than that and you know it. Why aren’t you upset? Be disgusted. Ask for a new co-pilot. _Do something_.”

Hinata shakes his head more furiously and gets in Kageyama’s space, still talking at a low volume that alarms Kageyama. “No—Kageyama, no, that’s good—I—” He bites his lip and looks away. “I don’t _want_ another co-pilot, don’t you get it?”

“Not even if I do this?” Before Hinata can make any move to stop him, Kageyama tilts Hinata’s head to the side and kisses him right below his ear, along his jaw.

Hinata’s entire body shudders against him, and Kageyama feels a lash across his mind so strong it practically burns him. He pulls away, certain that Hinata is disgusted now. It take him a moment to realize that whip across his mind was the most ferocious chorus of **_yes_** from Hinata’s mind and body that he’d ever felt in his life.

He stares at Hinata, dumbstruck, their bond blown wide open. He’s not sure when his hands settled on Hinata’s shoulders, but he can feel his partner trembling beneath his hands. Relief and want and love pour over the connection, overloading Kageyama’s senses, like the very first time they used the Ghost Drift. Kageyama’s projecting, too—shock and amazement and acceptance and more love than he ever knew he was capable of feeling.

He doesn’t notice the tears dripping down his face until he sees them in Hinata’s eyes, too.

Hinata jerks forward, hugging Kageyama so tight his ribs might’ve cracked, but Kageyama returns the gesture just as fiercely. Hinata sobs into his chest and Kageyama squeezes his eyes closed to stop the stream of tears, but he can’t. They can’t even speak, so overwhelmed by the crashing of their minds over the Ghost Drift.

_I admire you, I look up to you; your strength is my strength. I’m so glad I found you, I’m so glad you’re here with me now. That dream—_

_Yes, it was mine, too. I want to touch you, I want to care for you, protect you, no matter the cost. You’ve proven beyond a shadow of a doubt that your spirit and passion supersede raw talent. Really…it is you who are the most incredible._

_I wanted you to touch me like that, all the time. I want to feel you as close physically as we are mentally. When we’re in the Jaeger, one mind and one body, even then, I want you nearer to me. Can you be?_

_Always. Anything for you. God, Hinata, I think—no, I **know** that I love you._

_Stay by my side then, forever._

“I love you, I love you,” Hinata mumbles thickly into Kageyama’s chest, sniffing wetly. He looks up, only to feel a single drop of water fall on his cheek. Hinata watches in awe as Kageyama wipes the corners of his eyes and takes a shaky breath. A feeling of warm protectiveness and adoration rises in Hinata’s chest and he reaches up, wiping at Kageyama’s eyes for him. Kageyama leans into the touch, breathing unevenly.

It’s strange, to have the walls between them collapse so suddenly. Hinata registers distantly that his side of the link is curling and intertwining tighter with Kageyama’s side. He’s far more interested in the excess of emotion radiating off of the usually reserved Kageyama. All his resistance gives out, and Hinata just feels wave after wave of Kageyama’s devotion to him, his love and his lust for Hinata, how he cherishes their union as pilots as much as Hinata does.

Kageyama calms down after a moment. He frees himself from Hinata, sinking instead to the floor, sitting seiza with his hands on his knees in front of Hinata. There’s a decisiveness to his mind that catches Hinata off-guard. He bows his head slightly and Hinata, flustered, asks, “Kageyama, what are you doing?”

“Hinata Shouyou,” Kageyama begins. “If you’ll have me, I promise to stay by your side—whether as pilots or as life partners—for as long as you have need of me. No matter what happens, I won’t leave you. Forever, if that’s truly what you wish for.”

“Wh-why are you deferring to me?” Hinata squawks, still stuck on ‘ _life partners_ ’ and ‘ _forever_ ’.

Kageyama looks up at him and raises an eyebrow. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Hinata doesn’t have an answer for him. This Kageyama truly was nothing like the self-righteous ‘king of the base’ he had met so many months earlier.

“Do you accept?” Kageyama prompts, looking uncharacteristically patient.

“I…I do,” Hinata replies, blushing and looking away. “But stand up, this is way too formal. Feel like I’m being proposed to…”

Kageyama stands up. “It could be a proposal, if you want it to be,” he says simply. He scoops up a sputtering Hinata bridal style and carries him to their room. “Though I think that’s more of Daichi-san and Suga-san’s style, to be honest.”

“ _What?_ Wait, what are you doing? Hey, wait a second— _eep!_ ” Hinata yowls, looking anywhere but at Kageyama’s face. “Put me down! I don’t wanna be attacked by this ravenous beast!”

“Who’s a ravenous beast?” Kageyama growls, dumping Hinata onto his bed. “Stop getting weird ideas in your head.”

Hinata tenses uncomfortably as Kageyama climbs onto the too-small bed, looking for all the world as if he were waiting to be assaulted. Kageyama rolls his eyes and tugs Hinata closer, into his chest. Hinata relaxes a little when Kageyama doesn’t try anything, just loops his arms around him and nestles his face in Hinata’s hair. Hinata actually snuggles back against Kageyama, enjoying the shared body heat and soft breaths rustling his bangs.

—There’s a hand at his chin, gently urging him to tilt his head up. Hinata does so, and he feels the warm press of lips on his forehead.

“I love you, Hinata,” Kageyama whispers, so quietly it might have been Hinata’s imagination if it weren’t for the flutter of nervous energy in Kageyama’s stomach. He closes his eyes, settling his hand atop Kageyama’s larger one, still curled around Hinata’s middle. Kageyama twines their fingers gratefully.

“Let’s go to sleep,” he says, and Kageyama obliges. He spoons Hinata, pulling his tiny partner close to him on the double bed. Hinata is reminded of the star-gazing night and an amused huff in his ear tells him that Kageyama read his mind and agreed. Kageyama pulls the comforter over their entangled bodies. Hinata makes a pleased noise at the instant warmth.

“I meant it when I said forever,” he murmurs softly after a while, voice heavy with sleep. Kageyama gives him an answering squeeze around his chest.

 

\---------------------------

 

When Daichi wakes up, it is to the anxious stirring of the Ghost Drift, calling him even in sleep. He doesn’t move much—from what he can tell, Koushi doesn’t even realize what he’s doing. He cracks one bleary eye open to see Koushi, sitting up and facing away from him, staring out the window. The sheets are pooled around his waist and there are goosebumps all along the bare skin of his back and shoulders. He sits, immobile, the entire time Daichi watches him. It’s unnerving. Looping one arm around his waist, Daichi attempts to coax Koushi back to bed. At his touch, Koushi jumps a foot.

“Oh! God, Daichi, you startled me.” He smiles down at Daichi, but there’s a guilty look in his eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Daichi asks. “Something’s eating at you.”

“Oh, it’s nothing, just me worrying over things I have no business worrying over,” Koushi replies, looking away. Daichi kisses the small of his back.

“If you’re up this late and freezing cold, it can’t be ‘nothing’. Are you sure you don’t want to tell me about it?” Koushi bites his lip.

“Asahi…Asahi told you about his predictions, right? About the equation?” Daichi nods, but Koushi still isn’t looking at him. “He said there’d be a double event eventually. He predicted it to be the one Omega took down.”

“Right…” Daichi agrees, not understanding where this was going. “But it wasn’t. It was just a normal kaiju.”

Koushi meets his eyes, worried. “Apparently, the sensors our base uses to predict kaiju sizes and abilities has been somewhat malfunctioning—it overreacts. And Asahi, who uses those results, ended up making the prediction with faulty data. Well, he recalculated it and said that he was way, way off. He hasn’t figured out a date yet, but he predicts the double event will happen in the next week or so.”

Koushi falls back onto the bed, distressed. “What’re we going to do about that, Daichi? What’s the world going to do if we have to deal with more than one kaiju at once?”

“Hey,” Daichi says comfortingly. “It’s only a prediction. And we’ve been hit recently too—even if there’s going to be a double event, it won’t hit here.”

“You hope,” Koushi sighs. “I trust Asahi. He wouldn’t cause unnecessary fright unless he was dead sure.”

“I trust Asahi too,” Daichi says. “I just don’t think something like a double event could happen if in the years we’ve been fighting the kaiju it has never happened before.”

“I don’t want to fight two of them at once,” Koushi whispers, like it’s a secret. He curls into himself a little, and just like that, Daichi knows this has been worrying him for a while. And since he knows Koushi like the back of his hand, he knows that this will drive him insane, the fear that _something_ is coming, and that he doesn’t know if he can face this something. It’s the same fear that made the Marshal hesitate to let him continue piloting, the fear ingrained into his mind that he fought with every day. It’s a fear Daichi can’t allow to take hold of Koushi’s heart and fester and grow, not after how far he’s come. He sits up.

“Koushi, will you marry me?”

Koushi blinks and flips to face Daichi. “What?” He asks, baffled.

Daichi smiles boyishly back at him. “You heard me. Would you prefer if I got on one knee?”

Koushi still looks completely and utterly confused. “Why all of a sudden—”

Daichi shuts him up with a kiss, leaning back with the same, excitable look on his face. “Why _not_? I’m in love with you, you’re in love with me—we’re going to be with each other our entire lives, why not get married?”

Koushi laughs, a small smile climbing onto his face. “Where? Right here?”

Daichi nods resolutely. “Right here. Come on.”

He hops out of the bed, still in nothing but boxers, dragging the sheet with him. Koushi yelps at the cold and chases after him. He wraps his arms around himself, shivering. “Really now, that’s childish Dai—”

Daichi flourishes the sheet over Koushi’s head, draping it over him like a veil. He holds the two ends at Koushi’s neck and his breath catches. Surprised, clear eyes look at him intently, and there’s a pretty pink flush to Koushi’s cheeks. Silvery hair pokes out from beneath the sheet and two small hands appear to take the sheet edges from Daichi’s. He smiles.

“What?” Koushi asks, furrowing his brow.

“Mother always wanted me to have a beautiful bri— _ow!_ Ow, okay, I’ll stop!” Daichi laughs, avoiding a second punch from Koushi who, nevertheless, refuses to remove his ‘veil’.

“Get on with my wedding, I’m emotional and prone to leaving the altar,” Koushi grumbles, fighting off a smile.

Daichi clears his throat. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to witness the union between these two smoking-hot young men who are, for the record, not virgins in the _slightest_ —”

“That’s not how it goes,” Koushi mutters, but he’s biting his thumb to keep from laughing.

“Excuse me sir. Anyway, after several years wasted pining after each other, these two idiots finally decided that they were completely and undeniably in love with each other, much to the ‘surprise’ of all their companions. Today, they will consummate their bond of love through the holy institution of marriage, in the eyes of god, the law, their friends, the Marshal Ukai, and the entire kaiju species as represented by the secondary brain of a kaiju downstairs called ‘Kyouken’ and the half-breed kaiju, Tyrant Omega.”

More serious now, Daichi takes one of Koushi’s hands. “Do you, Sugawara Koushi, take this man, Sawamura Daichi, to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

Koushi doesn’t break eye contact for a moment. “I do,” he says, softly. “Um, do you, Sawamura Daichi, take this man, Sugawara Koushi, to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

Daichi’s eyes crinkle at the edges from how hard he’s smiling. “I do. And with that, I declare us husband and husband.”

“You may now kiss the significantly prettier husband,” Koushi laughs, and Daichi takes heed, holding Koushi’s face in both hands and tilting his head to kiss him deeply. Koushi drops the sheet to run his fingers up through Daichi’s short hair, resting their foreheads together when they break apart.

Koushi gasps, all of a sudden. “Oh! We don’t have rings now, do we?”

Daichi raises an eyebrow. “Or do we?”

Koushi watches with interest as he goes to the side table drawer and fishes out two boxes, simple, but still nice-looking. Koushi’s heart leaps into his throat. He had just been joking, but they couldn’t—

“Just open it,” Daichi prompts him, reading the look of panic in Koushi’s eyes.

Koushi does, nervously, but gasps again at what’s inside. “Daichi! These are—”

“New dog tags,” Daichi finishes. “I just got them a couple days ago. I was waiting for a time to present them to you, but this is as good a time as any.”

“Look, look!” Koushi exclaims. “They have AA’s symbol on them!”

Daichi takes Koushi’s from him and places it around his neck, fixing the chain to its proper position. Koushi’s eyes shimmer a little. “No one has to know,” Daichi whispers and Koushi nods, wrapping one hand around the tag.

“Daichi…this is so nice…but why? Why did you suddenly decide to do all of this?” He asks, puzzled.

“With all that Asahi said, I just think you’re forgetting one important thing—you’re not alone.” Daichi presses a hand to Koushi’s cheek. “I’m here, and I won’t be going anywhere. Tsukishima and Yamaguchi have our back as always, and now we have Kageyama and Hinata. You said so yourself, one day they’ll be good enough to be a point team. Saeko, the Marshal, everyone—they’re fighting with us, helping us out. You’re not alone, Koushi. No one expects you to fight by yourself. We’re with you.”

He pulls Koushi into his chest. “ _I’m_ with you.”

Koushi hold him tightly until the trembling leaves his limbs.

 

\---------------------------

 

“Asahi? What are you still doing up?”

Noya rubs at his eyes and hops out of bed, padding over to the tiny desk lamp and Asahi’s hunched figure. “It’s so late, come on, you need sleep, too.” He runs a hand down Asahi’s arm, frowning at the tension in his muscles. Peeking around at his face, Noya sees a look of alarmingly fierce concentration and half-sounds coming from Asahi’s mouth as he scribbles furiously on the paper in front of him.

“Asahi!” Noya barks, jerking him from his intensity. Asahi looks at Noya guiltily. “What are you doing?” Noya asks again, voice slipping into worried exhaustion.

Asahi’s expression morphs into one of apology. “Yuu, I’m sorry, this—I’m sorry, the Marshal needs to see this. Forgive me.” He kisses Noya’s temple fleetingly, grabbing his papers and darting from their shared room, forgetting his shoes and robe. Noya just stands there, caught completely by surprise.

“Asahi…” He whispers. “Please don’t hurt yourself like this.” There’s desperation in his voice, but he’s not sure if it’s over Asahi’s health or the content of his studies.

The Marshal on the other hand, is wide awake, like he expected Asahi to come see him in the dead of night. He opens the door to his office almost immediately after Asahi starts knocking. “Azumane,” he says by way of greeting. “This better be important.”

“Sir, I really think you need to see this. As soon as possible. It’s probably already too late.”

Ukai takes the folder from Asahi’s hands, skimming the title but especially taking note of the date on the folder—three days from now.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> is.....is that PLOT i smell.....? no, it couldn't be. anyway. since we're about to hit the heavy stuff, i'd like to remind you once more that i can be reached at [**tumblr**](http://thewaterdoesntlikehim.tumblr.com/) and [**twitter**](https://twitter.com/sleepytadashi)!! ~~i won't be putting this info in the next chap for reasons~~
> 
> if that last daisuga scene struck you as familiar, then perhaps you remember it from toradora! that's where i drew my inspiration from~
> 
> i've only seen a few so far, but just for the record, feel free to ask me about world-building questions!! i'm trying to include as much as i can in the fic, but hey, if you want to know more about my universe, hmu.
> 
> (chapter title from 'Hotel Aquarium' by Falling Up for like, the third time)


	7. the night dropped into the sea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello everyone!! as you are all well aware this is REALLY REALLY FUCKING LATE
> 
> holidays have been so busy for me and i've had a lot on my plate but i would like to thank everyone for staying with me and sending so many lovely comments. on a side note--1000 KUDOS!!! THANK U ALL!!! im sorry that i won't be able to respond to all your comments from the previous chapter (my inbox is over 100 lmao) but I'll try my hardest to this time. again, this is the lightly beta'd version, but my beta is back so!! hopefully i'll have an even smoother version up soon.
> 
>  arts!! the love of my life, [**meyo**](http://cousaten.tumblr.com), drew [**bb precious kagehins**](http://cousaten.tumblr.com/post/101715443279/) and a [**suga worth marrying tbh**](http://cousaten.tumblr.com/post/101800769095/)
> 
> [ **this-is-asdf**](http://this-is-asdf.tumblr.com) also drew [**the kagehina jacket scene**](http://this-is-asdf.tumblr.com/post/102369526787/) huehuehue
> 
> one final, heavier note: the plot starts here. i've written a lot of fluff and background so far, but this is where it gets serious. expect forward motion on plot in each chapter from here on out.

There are few things Hinata hates more than waking up to the blaring of sirens. He jolts upright, knocking aside sheets with his half-asleep fumbling, smacking the warm lump next to him accidentally. Said lump growls a warning and shoves a pillow over his head.

“Wha’ the fuck…Hina…wha’ time’s it?” Kageyama grumbles once he realizes that the alarm won’t be stopping any time soon.

Hinata forces his blurry eyes to clear enough to make sense of their bedside clock. “4:03 in the morning,” he croaks, disbelief evident. “Don’t those kaiju have something better to do…?”

“I swear if this is a drill…” Kageyama warns, sitting up as well and rubbing at his eyes with the heel of his hand. He shakes his head once, and then he’s alert, hopping out of their crudely made bed, a combination of their two doubles pushed together. Hinata watches him get dressed with little interest, flopping back down onto the mattress. Three days later and nothing had really changed.

He’s hit in the face by his own clothing and the order to _get changed you moron, we have a planet to save._ The thought of piloting makes him liven up enough to pull on his uniform and jacket, but not enough to wander into the too-bright fluorescent light of their kitchen. Kageyama darts back in a few minutes later, snorting at Hinata’s uncharacteristic lifelessness and fluffed hair. Hinata looks up when he’s offered an only-slightly-burned piece of toast, grabbing it in his teeth and chewing contentedly.

Kageyama rolls his eyes. “Hopeless,” he mutters, but there’s an almost-smile on his face. “Come on, we better hurry.”

Hinata manages to get out of bed and trudge into the bustling hallway, but there’s no rush to his movements. Impatient and antsy at their slow reaction time, even in the dead of night, Kageyama gestures for Hinata to hop on his back. Surprised, Hinata swallows the last of his toast and obliges, latching onto Kageyama like a leech and burying his face in Kageyama’s neck.

“I don’t like losing to you, you know. Not even in waking up early,” he complains. Kageyama hoists him a little higher up and rolls his eyes.

“We’re a team, stupid—it’s my job to look after you. ‘S not a competition.” Hinata smiles despite himself, warm affection sweeping over the bond. Nothing had really changed—right, but it was nice not to hide this happiness and love. His tiny _okay_ resonates between them, too content for someone about to engage a kaiju in battle.

They run into Tsukishima and Yamaguchi on the way to the Shatterdome, as they tended to do more and more often. Hinata is often prone to wondering if he and Kageyama don’t have a kind of mental connection with the other young team. Ever since that night they fell asleep together at the beach, the four had grown strangely close—running into each other in the oddest places, holding civil conversations, even managing to strategize like Daichi and Koushi had been training them to do without tearing each other’s throats out. That didn’t mean Tsukishima got any more pleasant to be around, though.

“Ew,” he says, wrinkling his nose at the piggybacking. “Don’t let me be seen with you.” Kageyama returns the curl of his lip with a dark glare of his own, looking hilarious and unintimidating. Yamaguchi and Hinata make eye contact and snort in laughter, much to the annoyance of their partners.

“You wanna be dropped on your ass?” Kageyama hisses at Hinata, still shaking with breathless laughter.

“Oh come on, Tsukki,” Yamaguchi grins. “They’re kind of cute, aren’t they?”

Kageyama and Hinata go pink and Tsukishima rolls his eyes. “You’re delusional, Tadashi,” he mutters. “Let’s just go.” He stalks off, lengthening his stride so that Yamaguchi has to trot to keep up, but not before he spins around and winks conspiratorially at the other flank team.

“That means he agrees, you know!”

Kageyama huffs, trying to make it seem like the whole situation didn’t matter, stiffly following them into the Shatterdome. Hinata headbutts him, gentle and adoring. They _were_ pretty cute, all things considered, even if Kageyama was embarrassed. Hinata is dumped unceremoniously off of Kageyama’s back when they arrive at the small elevator leading up to their Drivesuit Room. He knocks their shoulders together and grins at Kageyama until he feels exasperated fondness rise from his partner.

When they slide into their drivesuits, the bond is already humming, warm and flexible between them. Hinata hops in place, trying to shake the last dregs of tiredness from his person. He has good feeling about this drop—there’s no mental disturbance between him and Kageyama, Yamaguchi is chipper enough to put Tsukishima in what qualifies as a good mood for him, and they will get the day off for sure once they take down the kaiju. To his left, Kageyama makes some final nitpicky adjustments to his suit and then they’re out the door and onto the catwalk leading to the Conn-Pod and their Jaeger.

Saeko wastes no time in updating the three teams on the status of the kaiju’s size (Category Four, codename ‘Stinger’) and its apparent offensive capabilities (lean and swift body type but weak defense; specialized weapons include a dagger-like tail tip). It’s not heading for land very quickly despite its speed abilities, mostly hovering just off the edge of the continental shelf.

 **Tch,** Daichi grumbles across the com. **I hate the fast ones. And a Cat. Four, too, this is gonna be rough.**

 **Strike is one of the fastest Jaegers ever commissioned,** Tsukishima reminds him. **We’ve yet to come across a kaiju we couldn’t outpace.**

 **Looks like we’re going to be using a strategy focusing on Gold Strike as our main offensive weapon, then,** Koushi sighs. **AA can run point for you, but since Omega hasn’t clashed with many of the bigger kaiju, I want them to stay out of this one’s striking range unless we need them to execute a plan as the situation changes**.

 **Roger,** Kageyama and Hinata reply. Hinata makes a face, knowing Koushi can’t see him. Kageyama catches this out of the corner of his eye and shoves at Hinata.

“It’s for the best—Suga-san is right, we’ve only ever fought one Category Four and it wasn’t directly either. You saw how big it was,” he reasons with Hinata. “Just go with the flow until we get better.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Hinata rolls his eyes. “Let’s just get out there and kick this kaiju’s ass.” The doors open from above and searchlights from the cargo helicopters flood the base with white light, their cables lowering to attach themselves to the massive metal golems slowly roaring to life. Saeko calls for the neural handshake, and then it’s six humans and one entity seeing through three different sets of eyes as they’re lifted from the base to the storm-tossed choppy waves of the ocean, a black and ominous abyss licking up at them.

_(And in the K-Science bay, the kaiju’s appearance has already wreaked havoc, judging from the paper scattered wildly across the floor and chalk and marker decorating the metal walls in incomprehensible equations, the work of a madman sealed in his cell._

_Noya and Tanaka are floored, watching Asahi tear his side of the bay apart, the bags under his eyes so heavy they make him look skeletal. Judging from the coffee cups and energy shots lying around the room, the only thing keeping Asahi upright is his fanatical obsession with his math and a self-induced hormone imbalance. Noya steps in when he spies what very well could have been a needle with **a shot of adrenaline** concealed under a folder._

_“Asahi!” Noya barks, sharp and angry with worry. “What the **fuck** are you doing? You’re killing yourself!”_

_Asahi’s quiet chatter to himself stops altogether, and when he turns to face Noya, his hand trembles from the jittery side effects of the drugs, brushing away a strand of hair. “The kaiju,” he says, sounding broken. “There’s only one kaiju…there should be two, it’s the **only** explanation, **where is the second** …”_

_“There is no second kaiju, Asahi-san,” Tanaka says, trying to be as placating as possible. “The sensors are fully functional; they would have definitely detected a life form as large as a second one. There’s no input from any of the other bases either. It’s really just the one.”_

_“You don’t understand,” Asahi whispers, mournful. “I’m not wrong—I have checked the full extent of my math twenty-three times,” he gestures wildly at the scribbles adorning the walls, “the reality doesn’t match.”_

_Tanaka shrugs. “Maybe this time it’s just wrong—”_

_“ **Numbers never lie!** ” Asahi shouts, more distressed and angry than either of the two had ever heard him—not at them, but at himself and the situation at large. More softly, he adds: “People lie. Careless predictions and unsteady sciences lie. But numbers—those are absolute. You can always trust the numbers.”_

_Tanaka and Noya exchange helpless glances. Noya steps forward, ducking his head a little. “Asahi? You haven’t slept since that night, have you? Please…please come back to the room. There’s nothing more you can do; you’re only hurting yourself. We need you, so please, please look after yourself.”_

_Asahi allows himself to be shown from the bay, casting one more weary glance back. “I was so certain…” he whispers. Tanaka and Noya’s hearts beat quicker at that, anxiety and doubt nestling in their minds.)_

On the battlefield, the kaiju launches itself out of the water and straight at Gold Strike, digging its claws into any chinks or connection in the Jaeger’s armor and holding on, using its incredibly versatile and lethal tail to stab at Strike’s legs, its back legs scrabbling at the lower half of Strike’s torso. The grating sound of thick claws on tough metal screeches up to the Conn-Pod, making the pilots wince in pain while still trying to fight.

 **Strike requesting immediate assistance!** Yamaguchi hollers across the com. **Get us out of here!**

Apocalypto Alpha surges to the rescue, wielding a two-handed blade that she cuts straight across the back of the kaiju, both dislodging it and making it spill great amounts of thick kaiju blue. Screeching, the kaiju falls back, only to have its underbelly and legs torn into by the heavy caliber rounds Tyrant Omega unloads from a fair distance. The behemoth crashes into the water, but not before its tail twists around Strike’s legs and drags the Jaeger off balance, sending him tumbling into the water. There’s a panicked yell from both Tsukishima and Yamaguchi.

Hinata’s nerves are wired and he’s strung tight, Kageyama equally tense beside him. The kaiju is no longer in sight, but a confirmation from Mission Control asserts that the kaiju is still showing signs of life. Omega takes a few steps forward as Strike, bogged down by the weight of the water on top him and buffeted by the waves, rises dangerously slowly.

 **Stay back, Tyrant Omega!** Koushi orders, his tone absolute. The newbies hold, but Hinata smacks the com in irritation.

**Suga-san, with all due respect, Strike is completely vulnerable right now, if the kaiju were to—**

**We’re standing guard for that very reason, Hinata. _Hold_.** Daichi’s tone matches Koushi’s, leaving no room for argument. Hinata growls.

Kageyama bites his lip, uncertain. **But with Strike down, who’s going to protect you?** He wonders aloud.

As if hearing Kageyama’s words, the kaiju explodes from the water again, this time throwing itself far enough forward that it lands perched on top of AA’s Conn-Pod, jaw wide and tearing at the thick walls of enforced glass, blocking Daichi and Koushi’s view. Claws dig into AA’s shoulders and the tail wraps down her arm, digging the claw where AA was struggling to keep a hold of her sword. Daichi and Koushi curl their hands into fists, sweat beading down their brows at the effort, determined not to lose their weapon. But even gritting their teeth and digging in, the kaiju twists its tail’s talon, shattering the fingers of the Jaeger and sending the weapon to the bottom of the ocean. Daichi snarls aloud in frustration and the two force Apocalypto Alpha to stumble on, trying to knock the kaiju off, walking blind.

 **Zero visibility here,** Koushi says. **Strike, Omega—we need this thing off _now._**

 **Coming,** Kageyama and Hinata say together, Omega dropping to all fours to run towards them.

 **Hey Omega,** Tsukishima’s voice breaks in. **Fetch.** Now standing upright, Gold Strike turns to face the kaiju, takes two steps forward, and blasts it with his plasma cannon, sending the kaiju sailing through the air.

 **Nice job, Gold Strike,** Koushi says. **But I think you clipped us in the process. There’s a hole in our Conn-Pod the size of a golf cart. We can’t go down now, or we’ll be dead.**

 **Take it easy, Apocalypto Alpha,** Kageyama suggests. It’s a bit insubordinate, but they can’t afford to risk their main team’s lives on a half-dead kaiju. **We’ll do clean-up.**

 **Alright, Omega,** Daichi huffs, amused.

The kaiju is swallowed by the water once more, but this time, Tyrant Omega won’t be letting it go so easily. Kageyama and Hinata feel for Omega’s consciousness, calling out the instincts built into the kaiju species as they make the final leap, following ‘Stinger’ down into the water. At the last second, the pilots feel the twitch of instinct in Omega’s synthetic mind, translating and amplifying the feeling into a spasm of faux muscle that twists Omega’s trajectory just enough that the Jaeger lands on one of the kaiju’s back kegs, pinning it down and stopping it from escaping.

The beast, not expecting to be captured, rears out of the water, intent on freeing itself. Its turns to Omega, baring its teeth in a ferocious snarl before leaping at him. Kageyama and Hinata manage to dodge most of the kaiju’s blows, only taking a few slight scratches and one deep gash from that lethal tail that leaves them dripping blue to match the kaiju. Omega doesn’t stop with the attack, though, and with the kaiju’s back to him, Omega gets the literal jump on it, pinning the body of the kaiju down by physically throwing his body across the kaiju’s. Stinger thrashes wildly at the indignity, snapping its jaw and puncturing Omega’s body multiple times with its tail.

 **A little help here?** Kageyama growls, annoyed and gritting his teeth.

 **Hold it steady, we’re here,** Yamaguchi says, and true to his word, Gold Strike flanks them, the clip of the plasma cannon reloaded and ready to fire. **On my mark, in three…two…**

The second kaiju bursts through the surface at the same time Saeko’s frantic shouting resonates across the com.

There’s no time to assess its strengths and weaknesses. No time to devise a strategy to kill it, no time even to classify its category. No time to listen to Saeko’s and the Marshal’s rapid-fire instructions or allow the dread to sink to the pits of the pilots’ stomachs. There is only time to kill and to defend, to push their bodies and minds to the breaking point.

It’s no longer a battle—it’s the struggle of three tired, weary animals thrown into a ring with only their instincts and their experience to help them survive against opponents they could hardly match.

 ** _Take the shot, Strike!_** Koushi’s voice cries desperately before he’s cut off with a grunt as the second kaiju—heavier than the first—rams Apocalypto Alpha.

 **Shit,** Tsukishima hisses, but Yamaguchi yanks his focus back to their pinned kaiju, which has increased its desperate struggle with the appearance of its brother. With one final lash of its body, the kaiju scrapes free just enough to ram the horns on the back of its head into Omega’s shoulder once, twice…

 **Holy shit, take the shot Strike!** Hinata screams, watching the systems in their left arm go from functional to critically damaged in a heartbeat. Gold Strike fires, blowing a neat hole through the neck of the kaiju, but it’s off just slightly and the kaiju keeps moving, escaping with another violent wriggle. They shoot once more, this time blasting its spinal cord and knocking it down and out for good. Just in case, Yamaguchi and Tsukishima drive a knife into its skull and split in down the middle.

 **Good and dead now,** Hinata breathes a sigh of relief. **AA, how’re you two holding up? …AA?** The two Jaegers turn only for both sets of pilots to yell and rush to the aid of their point team.

In the short period of time that it took the flank teams to kill the first kaiju, Daichi and Koushi had found themselves utterly outclassed. The kaiju had thick, plate-like scales that couldn’t be pierced with their second sword, and it fought at such a close range that Apocalypto Alpha didn’t have time to switch to their cannon. They were barely defending each hit, but with the damage already inflicted from the first kaiju, they were struggling. The second kaiju seemed to know to attack the weak points, worsen what was already injured. Koushi’s blood ran cold. _Just like we did with the last few kaiju attacks._ Next to him, Daichi’s jaw clenches as he reads Koushi’s thoughts.

They raise an arm to block the swipe of a too-massive paw, but the kaiju bats it away like the thousand ton arm is nothing, ripping out circuitry and hydraulics that hold AA together. In that one movement, the HUD shows critical failure in that arm and Daichi yells, broken and hurting like it’s his arm being ripped apart. The kaiju headbutts them, sending the Jaeger stumbling back and denting the chest plates. _Chest plate integrity compromised 34%..._ the display taunts them.

 **We’re coming to your aid, Alpha,** Tsukishima says. **Hold on.**

“…No,” Daichi says, meeting Koushi’s eyes. “You stay away from us, hear me?” Koushi’s eyes flutter shut and he swallows thickly. There’s a pause of confused silence.

 **…Daichi-san?** Yamaguchi murmurs, soft with disbelief.

 **Daichi-san, Suga-san, you _need_ assistance, that kaiju is going to attack any second! ** Hinata seconds.

The kaiju is circling Apocalypto Alpha, not even engaging her. The behavior is almost mocking. And then Kageyama sees it, clear as day—the monitor, the control room, the trembling fingers of the techs at their computers…

_He’s seen this before, now, hasn’t he?_

“Kageyama?” Hinata looks over at him in alarm when their whole connection shudders. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he hisses, just as Tsukishima growls at the main team, **You can’t mean to take down that kaiju all by yourselves.**

 **You’ll do as I order you to,** Daichi commands across the com. **And I’m giving you orders to not interfere.**

_(“It’s alright, we’ll take this one,” the too-familiar voice says. “Trust in us, okay? We won’t let it reach the city.” The kaiju is impossibly large, standing on two legs with tens of claws on its two club-like paws, breath easing from its mouth and nose in steam in the cold winter air. The Jaeger is so small, dwarfed by this giant, down one plasma cannon and his weapon of choice._

But what about you _, Kageyama thinks,_ what about you and your co-pilot, your Jaeger, what about **me** — _)_

“ _Kageyama!_ Ack!” There’s an edge of hysteria to Hinata’s voice as the memory shifts, bleeding into his mind from where Kageyama fights to keep a lid on it. He’s slipping, scrabbling for control but it’s like sliding on ice and he can’t—

It shudders free from the cage Kageyama had trapped it in, spreading its wings and consuming him whole. He slips from Hinata and Omega, spiraling in deeper and deeper into himself. He forces one rational thought to the surface, to Hinata: _don’t let Daichi…he’s just like him…just like Hajime-san, don’t let him…_

Kageyama’s grip on the Drift slips away, and Hinata is left to shoulder the weight of his mental load. He winces against the strain, trying to right the Jaeger, but his efforts are futile. Even with Tyrant Omega beginning to take on some of the weight himself, Hinata can’t manage it, not without his co-pilot.

“Kageyama is chasing the rabbit,” Hinata says into the com, eyes wide and frightened at the way Kageyama’s body goes limp, eyes focused dead ahead and pulse rising, fixed on some distant image only he could see. Hinata bites his lip. “I repeat, we are out of commission, our Drift is fading.”

 **Stay with him,** **Hinata,** Saeko orders. **Follow him in, you have to convince him it’s a memory or he will get lost down there, do it _now_.**

“B-but…the kaiju…” Hinata argues weakly, looking at the HUD, where the kaiju still circles, occasionally bashing into Apocalypto Alpha.

 **This is a direct order,** Saeko commands, voice stern.

 **Gold Strike, protect Tyrant Omega until he comes back online,** Koushi adds. **Don’t let anything happen to him. Leave the kaiju to us.** It’s the last thing he hears before he follows Kageyama’s memory, allowing himself to get swept in the tidal wave of panicked thought.

 

\-------------------

 

Kageyama is thirteen years old, and Oikawa Tooru is a veritable god.

He watches, expression blank but eyes intensely focused on the elder boy who tosses the volleyball up so lightly and naturally, like he was born to be one with the game he loves so much. Then Oikawa dashes into the approach, leaping and smashing the ball across the court, devastating the receiver. He lands lightly and primly, a satisfied grin on his face. Kageyama watches every minute stretch and pull of his muscles, every flicker in Oikawa’s posture and movements, recording it in his mind, fingers already itching to get out there and play.

“Oi, _Kuso_ kawa, stop showing off already,” a new voice interrupts, gruff and irritated. The owner is a smaller senpai with prickly black hair and the personality to match. He punches Oikawa hard in the arm, earning a squeal of pain from the captain.

“How mean, Iwa-chan! Someone needs to break in these newbies,” he mutters the last part under his breath.

Kageyama blinks. This is an unexpected development. He examines the other player; his sharp, angry eyes and short temper contrasting with the surprisingly relaxed and open posture he held. Was this guy a friend or a foe? Kageyama tilts his head curiously. He would have to pay closer attention to this ‘Iwa-chan’ who could challenge the expertise of the team’s setter.

_He finds out later that this is the co-captain, Iwaizumi Hajime, as the other shows him how to jump for max height and blocking power, tone conversational and expression open._

Iwaizumi-san is not someone to be idolized. The girls and scouts don’t flock to him; he has no flashy moves. He’s the ace, but at the same time it’s not impossible to block him, and not every spike is incredible. He’s above average, but not the god that Oikawa is or the natural Kageyama is. And yet, Kageyama is drawn to him. He has an honest, helpful personality hidden under the layer of bristling fur. Where Oikawa rules supreme above his team during practice, Iwaizumi is down with the commoners, fixing a stance or tossing for a first-year, never above helping others.

Kageyama is curious about Iwaizumi, but he is not who Kageyama needs. Kageyama needs the power and the technique of the captain, needs his skill in order to improve, and he makes this need known. Oikawa looks at him, _really_ looks at him the first time, assessing his teammate coolly. Only, in that moment, Kageyama feels the faint chill of knowing Oikawa is seeing not just who he is, but who he will become. And with that image in mind, Oikawa sticks his tongue out and scurries off.

However, Kageyama is nothing if not persistent. He pursues Oikawa during practice and outside of it, watching his moves when Oikawa pushes him away for the thousandth time until he is harshly glared at. His cause is simple: to get better. But Kageyama was dead wrong in thinking that Oikawa would take well to understanding that commitment and assist Kageyama in his pursuits.

When Oikawa swings at him, eyes flashing with a pain Kageyama had never known, he understands Oikawa fully as a person. Iwaizumi—that interesting person, again—saves Kageyama from the price of his persistence, he is too surprised to take Oikawa’s aggression to heart. Iwaizumi gives Oikawa a sharp tongue-lashing and a head-butt for good measure before ushering Kageyama out of the gym and leaving their captain to die. Iwaizumi buys Kageyama milk—a brand he doesn’t usually get—and tosses it to him. Kageyama blinks in surprise and Iwaizumi wordlessly gestures to the stairs where they sit down together, quiet for a long moment.

“Are you okay?” Iwaizumi asks, to start. Kageyama nods. Iwaizumi pauses.

“You know he’s not what you need, right?” he asks hesitantly.

Kageyama nods again, chewing on his straw. “Oikawa-san isn’t a genius. I saw it in his eyes, just then.”

Iwaizumi exhales, relieved. “That’s right. He’s not a genius, and he hates those genius-type guys who can just stroll onto the court and own it without the amount of effort and pain he’s put into his level of skill. In short, he hates you.”

Kageyama isn’t fazed. “I see that now. But I can still learn from him.”

Iwaizumi scoffs. “Sure, if you want a fist to the face. Listen, if you want to become a setter whose skill rivals Oikawa’s, it won’t be much of a challenge. With your natural ability and feel for the game, it’d take no time for you to excel.” Iwaizumi stands up. “But…you’ll never beat him with skill alone.”

Kageyama’s brow furrows, and Iwaizumi grins at that. “If you want to beat Oikawa as a player, you’re going to have to watch how he interacts with others. How he brings out the best in every player. He can make even the most apathetic stretch a little farther, jump a little higher, block a little harder. You might be individually superior, but you can’t even begin to compare with Oikawa when he’s leading us into battle.”

Iwaizumi ruffles Kageyama’s hair fondly. “You’re a really good kid, Kageyama. I wish I had the skill to push you to greater heights—you’d certainly fare better with my personality than that prissy baby over there. He can’t stand competition.”

“Iwaizumi-san does help me,” Kageyama insists. “Not as a setter…but in other aspects.”

“Oh yeah?” Iwaizumi raises an eyebrow. “In any case, think about what I said, okay?” And Kageyama tries, he really does.

Kageyama is sixteen years old and Oikawa Tooru has turned his life upside down.

“You… _quit_?” Kageyama repeats, not believing his own words. Oikawa laughs.

“Don’t sound so surprised, Tobio-chan—there’re better uses of my talents,” he says matter-of-factly, almost smug.

Kageyama takes the bait. “What do you mean?”

“Well, it turns out I’ve got the makings of a Ranger. You know, for the Jaeger Program?” Kageyama’s breath catches. “I’m a cadet right now, but Iwa-chan and I go in for out final sync tests in a few days, and who knows? Maybe we’ll get our own Jaeger.”

Kageyama reels. “You’re going to war?” he whispers. “You’re going to fight kaiju?”

Oikawa raises an elegant eyebrow, like Iwaizumi had, that night. “In case you haven’t noticed, there’s something bigger than volleyball going on in the world. _Someone_ has to be the protector.” His tone of voice is serious, like it gets before the match starts, like it was when he showed Kageyama his personal demons.

He straightens up. “So. How’s Shiratorizawa treating you? Still the genius wonder boy?”

“I’m the starter,” Kageyama replies. “Starting my second year, actually.”

“How do you like it?” Oikawa asks, genuinely curious, it seems. They aren’t rivals anymore, not really—Kageyama’s not actually sure what their relation is anymore.

“It’s boring,” he confesses quietly. “No exciting tosses, no challenges—we overpower everyone in our path with little effort, thanks to Ushijima-san.”

“Sounds to me like little Tobio-chan is getting jaded with victory!” Oikawa laughs gleefully. “What a thing to be upset over nowadays!” Leaning in close, his breath tickles Kageyama’s ear.

“If you want to really fight, maybe stop playing a game first, hmm?” he suggests in a whisper, amused.

Turning on his heel, Oikawa saunters off with a sarcastic wave. “See you around, Tobio-chan! Have fun winning every single match until you graduate! I’ll say hi to Iwa-chan for you.”

He lasts only two more months before, ironically enough, he is replaced by a first-year setter genius with his eye on the volleyball and nothing else. Kageyama looks at his kouhai’s blank devotion to the sport and nothing else and shudders. He graduates, but Oikawa’s visit does not leave his mind.

Kageyama is eighteen years old and Oikawa Tooru is pissed.

“You know, what I said a year ago…I didn’t mean it literally,” he growls. “Stop following me.” He stalks away, still just as much of a child as he was in junior high and high school. Iwaizumi watches him go with disinterest.

“Welcome to the Tokyo base,” he offers. “I’ll show you to the cadets’ quarters.” Kageyama follows him, at the heels of his senpai once more.

Of course, Kageyama is a natural when it comes to piloting. He has the strength, the skill, and the focus to go far, soaring through the cadet rotations until he’s just a few below the top. His sync score improves with every simulation, and he’s nigh unmatched in the Kwoon Room. He impresses the officers and scares the other cadets. Kageyama Tobio takes to his new calling like he took to volleyball—with all his heart and his talent set on the goal of becoming a Ranger. Oikawa, already a Ranger, grits his teeth and resents him, but Iwaizumi takes Kageyama under his wing now that he can actually help him.

Iwaizumi is the first to step into Kageyama’s head, a gentle, lukewarm presence that tugs Kageyama along each step of the way, training him until he can manage each element of the Drift himself—from the vastness of the in-between to the do-or-die of the bridge to the actual Drift, the verging of souls. Kageyama becomes accustomed to Iwaizumi’s mind guiding him with gentle suggestions when he’s stumped and letting him figure it out when Iwaizumi knows he can do it.

In the Kwoon Room, they are a fair match. Kageyama’s got the natural ability to read his opponent’s moves and construct a concise counterattack within a heartbeat, but Iwaizumi has the experience. He knows every trick and tell of the newbies—seen it all before. And to him, Kageyama is no different. Their clashes are comfortable and friendly, the type of fighting that leaves Kageyama giddy with energy and light in his heart. He looks forward to these days, the sparring matches with Iwaizumi.

“Iwaizumi-san,” he calls one day, putting up the staffs. “It’s pretty late right now but if we hurry we can still get breakfast. Would you…care to join me?” He ducks his head awkwardly, feeling like a child under the amused and weighty gaze of his superior.

“Hajime,” he replies after a moment.

Kageyama blinks. “Pardon me?”

“You can just call me Hajime, Kageyama,” he huffs, laughing. “I know that I’m an officer, but we go quite a ways back, don’t we?”

“Y-yes, I suppose we do…Hajime-san,” Kageyama fumbles.

Iwaizumi jerks his head at the door. “C’mon, better hurry if we want to eat.” Kageyama hurries past him, aware of the way his ears burn, hiding his eyes under his fringe of bangs. Kageyama isn’t oblivious enough to discount the slight tightening in his chest at Iwaizumi’s kind words and helpful touches. Not oblivious—but Kageyama doesn’t think too much on it either.

His situation gets better. Oikawa, in a surprising show of mentorship, takes Kageyama specifically to the Jaeger he shares with Iwaizumi—Grand King—and teaches him about the parts and controls. It’s a valuable, hands-on experience that Kageyama files away in his mind furiously. They spend all day in the Shatterdome together, Oikawa treating him with professional politeness and only the occasional quip, even introducing him to engineers or technicians prowling around.

“Oikawa-san,” Kageyama starts, puzzled. “This is an incredibly helpful lesson that will improve my performance as a cadet. And although I am beyond grateful, I always thought you…hated…me. Why are you taking me on, of all times?”

Oikawa exhales loudly out his nose. “As it stands now, you’re clearly head and shoulders above the other cadets, our main choice for another auxiliary team, if we can hook you up with a partner. It only makes sense that a commanding officer would give you preferential treatment.” He raises an eyebrow at Kageyama. “You’re not wrong. I don’t like you—never have, really. I envy your talent, in this as I did in volleyball. But in this case, I have achieved the status I worked for. And more importantly, I have something you don’t have—experience.”

Kageyama glances to the side, sullen. Oikawa nudges his shoulder almost playfully. “Besides, Iwa-chan has taken a special shine to you, so maybe he knows something I don’t know. He’s my better half, after all…don’t tell him I said that,” Oikawa warns at the end. The peace offering startles a half-smile from Kageyama.

“You Drift together—I’m sure he knows it all already,” Kageyama replies, and Oikawa laughs, light and true, drawing eyes to them.

And Iwaizumi does. Iwaizumi knows every edge and shadow of his co-pilot, inside and out. They flow together as one, whether Drifting or just walking down the hallway. There’s always that sharpness and acidity in their relationship that burned caustic to Kageyama when he was younger, but now that he’s older, he can see the flicker of hungry fire that dances in Oikawa’s eyes when he teases Iwaizumi and the answering jump of sparks when Iwaizumi roughs him up. In the times when no one is looking for it, Kageyama sees the twitch of a smile on Iwaizumi’s lips as Oikawa gestures wildly, intently, and trying to prove a point. It’s different from how he smiles at Kageyama, all fondness and amusement. This one is dangerously soft and bright as lightning, there and gone so fast one could miss it so easily, the times Iwaizumi Hajime looks on Oikawa as if he’d never seen anyone like him before.

‘Tooru,’ he always called him. _Tooru_. The only man he was on a first name basis with was his partner. And every time, he got that answering ‘Hajime.’ Oikawa was so much freer with his emotions and affections around Iwaizumi, throwing an arm over his shoulders or jabbing him in the side. Those were the obvious ones. But there was also the accidental brush of fingers that lingered too long, the sleepy cheek rested against a resigned back or shoulder, the slide of arm against Iwaizumi’s. Oikawa could not rein himself in like Iwaizumi, prone to becoming over-expressive to hide his real feelings, but in those softer moments, Kageyama could see them—the ways Oikawa really loved and held Iwaizumi dear to him. Kageyama wasn’t jealous—he couldn’t be. It was a pointless exercise. They held a knowledge of each other that couldn’t be matched by Kageyama’s occasional extra sessions with Iwaizumi. The Ghost Drift bound them as one soul, never to be parted.

So he moved on.

As Oikawa predicted, Kageyama was selected along with another, less extraordinary recruit to shadow the point team for a few months in preparation for their final tests. From there, the results would be sent out to all the kaiju-defense bases and if chosen, Kageyama would most likely be transferred and paired with another cadet who he could Drift well with. The thought of leaving Japan—hell, even leaving the Tokyo base—was mildly terrifying, but Kageyama had gotten this far, and he had no intention of backing down.

One of the great privileges the selected cadets got was the opportunity to observe the kaiju battles from the high-energy Control Room. The theory was that they would get a feel for how much trust they needed to put in the command and what it was like to fight a kaiju start to finish. That day, the Category Four wasn’t abnormally large or with a particularly deadly weapon. In fact, to Kageyama it looked lumbering and stupid, reacting slowly to the two teams that went out to engage it. Soon that would be him, running at Hajime-san’s side, shielding Grand King in preparation for the final killing blow.

No one expected that its strange, slender arms could move like whips tipped with ugly, spiked paws. The flank team was down before they knew what had happened, and the kaiju fell on them, ripping holes in the armor and letting the pilots drown. Grand King, in his hurry to protect the other pilots, stepped into the kaiju’s striking range after emptying his clips into the beast. One massive punch from the claw-paw took out Grand King’s leg, and then Kageyama can only remember a faint, high-pitched screaming in the back of his mind as he watched and as he listened. As Iwaizumi promised his partner, Control Room, and the world that everything would be okay. As he stared into the jaws of death.

_“Trust in us, okay?”_

Kageyama doesn’t remember what other words were exchanged between the co-pilots, but he does remember Grand King’s feint in reaching for a sword, the swing of the claw-paw and the firing of the final plasma cannon shot, Oikawa’s too-soft “Hajime?” when the entire left side of the Conn-Pod is removed by the kaiju’s last blow. The com cut off just as the last remaining pilot began to scream.

Kageyama is twenty years old, although he feels at least eighty-two. He has just watched his mentor, friend, and someone desperately important to him, die. Kageyama is twenty years old and the only person worse off than him is Oikawa Tooru.

The on-base hospital is solemnly quiet, as if reverent and respectful of its one occupant. Kageyama doesn’t know why he’s there, why his feet dragged his body down to the hospital. He’s not sure why no one stopped him, why they thought it’d be a good idea for him to be there, waiting outside Oikawa’s room to be let in. His lip is bleeding and aching from repeated biting, but he keeps at it, keeps tasting the blood, using it as a lifeline to tether him to the real world.

A nurse steps out. “Oikawa-san isn’t really taking visitors…” she says softly, awkwardly, glancing back at the door a little too much for Kageyama to believe her.

“Please,” he begs, in a voice not his own. There’s nothing recognizable in the scratchy, hollow tone or the slight sprinkle of blood across his lips. The nurse looks at him— _really looks at him_ —and Kageyama sees mournful recognition in her eyes. He pushes past her gently, stepping into Oikawa’s room.

He expects screaming and crying, the sounds of a tantrum and of suffering. Kageyama is greeted with none of these. Instead, he is faced with the slumped form of the man he once called a god, dethroned and fallen from grace. His hair is bunched and dirty, making him look ragged and worn, despite the fact that Kageyama cannot see his face. The sheets spilling around his waist are an ocean of white, swallowing the hunched figure of a broken man.

“Oikawa-san…” Kageyama starts, then stops. This Oikawa, this officer—he was a friend. They had begun as rivals and grown into mutual acquaintances who sometimes even enjoyed each other’s company, and the last thing Oikawa probably needed was stuffy formality. “…Oikawa.”

Kageyama swallows. “I’m no good at this kind of thing, but I’m so—”

“So what?” Oikawa asks, voice not wavering or breaking in the slightest. He sounds almost deadpan in his question, surprising Kageyama into flinching at the strength of his voice. “So…sorry? Understanding? Upset? Do you commiserate with me, Tobio-chan? Do you feel as I do, because you held some _semblance_ of affection for him?”

“That’s not what I—” Kageyama replies, horrified.

“Of course it is,” Oikawa interrupts him. “You loved him to, did you not? But you weren’t inside him, didn’t feel him as I did, didn’t love so deeply you couldn’t tell where you stopped and he began. How could you? No one develops the Ghost Drift from a few measly test Drifts.” Kageyama swallows, throat too tight to breathe properly.

“No matter, no matter,” Oikawa sighs, sitting upright to look at Kageyama, face tired and nothing more. He offers Kageyama a small smile. “In any case, you don’t know how I feel. Do you want to know how I really feel, Tobio-chan? Do you know what him being _gone_ has done to me?”

Kageyama feels a chill down his back at how unnaturally calm Oikawa is, blinking slowly and patiently. He shakes his head suddenly, regretting that he ever stepped in the room.

“Too bad,” Oikawa whispers. “ _I’m fucking pissed._ ”

The calm façade drops in a heartbeat. Oikawa’s face curls into snarl, eyes as wild as an animal’s and he bares his teeth, tearing at the bed covers with his hands. “That motherfucker, that piece of shit, Iwaizumi Hajime _set me up!_

“All along, this was his plan! He drew me in, loved me more than anyone ever has, fucked me so well I dreamed of it, made it so I wouldn’t— _couldn’t_ —leave his side, but that still wasn’t enough for him. He just had to bring in the Ghost Drift, bind me in spirit to him so that I felt his every breath, his every thought, his very _soul_ within mine, so that I could never love another as deeply as I did him! _This is the crime of Iwaizumi Hajime!_ He made it so that I would not be able to _live_ without him, and then he _left me on this earth to burn alone!_ ”

Oikawa tears out of his bed, wrapping his hands around Kageyama’s neck and squeezing like Kageyama is the very image of his dead partner. Kageyama chokes and claws at Oikawa’s hands, trying to kick out at him, but Oikawa is iron—unmovable and hardened into callousness. “ _Do you see_ ,” he hisses. “Do you see now the error of your ways, Kageyama? You fell in love with a _sadist_ and a _killer!_ ”

He drops his hands from Kageyama’s neck, allowing him to suck in several desperate breaths, hands on Oikawa’s to keep him away from his neck. When his vision stops blurring, Kageyama realizes that it’s not just his hands that are shaking, but Oikawa’s, clasped in his, too. Oikawa shudders, squeezing his eyes shut. Tentatively, his fingers curl into Kageyama’s, weaving through so that they meld together at Kageyama’s side. Amazed, he watches as Oikawa presses his face into Kageyama’s collar, shaking like a leaf and letting out half-noises of broken keening.

“It’s his fault, isn’t it, Tobio? It’s his fault for dying, and in turn, killing me. I can’t live without him—can’t survive on my own anymore. Not like I used to. Because if it’s not his fault, then I—” Oikawa hiccups, shuddering again.

Kageyama squeezes his hands, tears pricking at his eyes. It was too much—the fear, the weakness Oikawa was showing, the pain in Kageyama’s own heart. Tears drip in fat rivulets before he can stop them, and he buries his face in Oikawa’s hair. “It’s not your fault,” he whispers. “Not yours, not his, not anyone’s, it’s just—”

“It’s just bad luck,” Oikawa replies softly. He looks up at Kageyama, freeing his hands so he can hold Kageyama’s cheeks, looking deep into his eyes. “Tobio, Tobio…look at me. Promise me. Promise me you’ll never Ghost Drift. Don’t ever get close enough to someone so that you cannot live without them. Do not become dependent. Always stand alone. At the expense of friendships and love, resist. Because if you don’t…” Oikawa’s eyes go hard again, and he digs his nails hard into Kageyama’s face until he cries out and flinches against the steely grip.

“If you don’t, they’ll take everything you were, everything that made you human, and bury it six feet under,” he hisses, forehead pressed against Kageyama’s, practically spitting his warning. “You will die a death worse than death. Even now he is here with me, taunting me, replaying over and over in my head, that last desperate scream, those last desperate thoughts…!”

Kageyama wrenches free, pushing Oikawa off him and turning to run out of the room. Oikawa’s voice follows him down the halls and through his memories and in his dreams: _“Your partner will destroy you!”_

When Kageyama grieves for Iwaizumi, it is down one of those abandoned halls in an empty room. His entire body shudders and quakes with the weight of his cries, silenced by a thin pillow holding in his screams and his tears. His nails draw red, bloody lines across his arms to match Oikawa’s on his cheeks.

Kageyama is twenty-one years old and he’s watching Iwaizumi Hajime die all over again.

 

\------------------------------

 

“Why is it hesitating?” Koushi whispers. “It knows that it has us cornered, and without Kageyama and Hinata…” He swallows, mind whirring as quickly as Daichi’s to try and find a possible solution. At least the other one was dead. Gold Strike and Tyrant Omega could manage to take the second down if they were to…were to…

Koushi snaps back to attention when he realizes Daichi’s mind is oddly quiet. He looks over to see Daichi concentrating with single-minded focus, staring at the HUD as if he could set it ablaze with his mind. And yet, his mind was blank. No, that wasn’t right; there was a wall, why was Daichi putting up a _wall_?

“Gold Strike, give us a direction while still staying close to Omega,” Daichi commands suddenly, waiting for the slightly confused confirmation before he turned to their control board, tapping in instructions with half-formed thoughts slipping over the wall too fast for Koushi to catch.

“Daichi, what—”

And then, like an electric shock to the base of his neck, Koushi feels the Drift go slack and fade as Daichi _forces them out of alignment_. Panic starts building in Koushi’s chest as Control barks for a status report on Apocalypto Alpha, why was their Drift down? Saeko’s voice is starting to get hysterical when neither Daichi nor Koushi respond.

Koushi doesn’t even recognize this Daichi.

He searches his partner’s stony face for any trace of the Daichi he knows, pushing desperately at their bond but denied every time. He couldn’t feel Daichi, couldn’t understand him, and he was about to free himself from the command platform when Daichi beat him to it, tapping some final commands in and hopping out of the locks around his drivesuit, hissing as they disengaged. Now they were completely vulnerable. Koushi’s heart beat erratically, eyes flickering back and forth from the HUD to Daichi, trying to keep tabs on his partner while also ensuring that they weren’t under direct attack. Thank god _Tsukishima and Yamaguchi_ were doing their jobs.

“Daichi, I swear to god I will _kill_ you, get back on the command platform _this instant_ ,” Koushi seethed, furious and scared. Ignoring Koushi’s insistence, Daichi approached him instead, tapping some instructions into his gauntlet. Koushi watched in horror as it deactivated.

“In the name of everything holy, what is going o—”

 _Escape pod start-up functions activated. Special request 2574: binding of patient_ , Apocalypto Alpha’s computer hummed in a low voice over the PA. Koushi balked as his command platform eased backward to meet the metal casing of the escape pod. What the hell was Daichi doing? Then the metal bindings eased around his arms, chest, and legs and he yelped aloud.

Looking desperately at the man he knew and loved, Koushi pleaded with him. “Daichi, I can’t—what are you doing? What is this? We can’t leave them to fight this kaiju alone, so why are you…”

Daichi’s expression softened finally, and he brushed a thumb over Koushi’s cheek tenderly. Everything hit Koushi at once as Daichi spoke.

“ ** _No._** ”

“I won’t leave them alone, Koushi,” he whispered. “I’ll stay, take it out myself. You know this is the only way.”

“No, no no no _no no_ , Daichi, this _isn’t_ the only way, no, you can’t leave me, _Daichi you have to take me with you!_ ” Koushi sobs out the last part, thrashing against the bonds in a desperate attempt to free himself. “ _We’re partners! We’re co-pilots! If we die, we die **together**!_ ”

Daichi only smiles that soft, precious smile he reserved for Koushi and Koushi alone. “I can’t let that happen,” he says, shaking his head. “They need guidance, and I—I need to know you grow old and die softly, not terrified and struggling for life in the belly of a Jaeger.”

The wall falls down between them and Daichi’s mind fumbles desperately for Koushi’s, holding them close to feel all the mutual love and warmth that they shared. Koushi let the tears fall as fast as he could, not wanting the water to cloud his vision of Daichi… _his last vision of Daichi_ …

Daichi leans over to kiss Koushi, strong and afraid, gripping his face as Koushi clutches at his elbows. Koushi can feel the trembling of Daichi’s lips, sense the spikes of fear in his heart at facing the kaiju alone, but at the same time the even greater, soul-deep dread that he would lose Koushi. Daichi pulls away with tears wetting his vision, too, and in one impulsive movement, he removes his helmet and pulls his dog tags from around his neck. He places them in Koushi’s hand, smiling at him one last time, sorrowful and deep.

“Until we meet again, Sugawara Koushi,” he says.

“ _Don’t go_ ,” Koushi pleads worthlessly, as the escape pod lid seals him in. Across the Ghost Drift, Daichi’s feathery _I will never stop loving you_ touches Koushi’s mind, and he wails—the noise drowned out by the whooshing of the escape pod being propelled out from the Jaeger and into the sea, GPS and automated motor carrying Koushi back towards the base.

 **This is a one-man mission,** Daichi says across the com, a single, commanding voice across the otherwise empty space. He is greeted with solemn, respectful silence from those who had heard the entirety of their conversation and understood exactly what Daichi was putting on the line. **I’m going to detonate the entirety of AA’s grenades while in close vicinity of the kaiju. All other teams are to stay back, that’s an order. Oh, and Tsukishima…you and Yamaguchi are in charge effective immediately following the detonation.**

 **…Yes, sir,** they murmur.

 **Daichi, Daichi…please don’t do this,** Koushi’s whispered pleas reach them from the com system in his escape pod. **Please, please…**

Daichi takes one threatening step towards the kaiju, and it turns on him, howling and angry, barreling AA over with the sheer force of its tackle. AA falls like a ragdoll and the kaiju tears into her armor with a vengeance, screeching. All at once, there’s a blinding light and a massive explosion blows the waves and kaiju sky high, the deep _boom_ of the blast fading into an ear-splitting screeching that makes the pilots wince. The sound from the grenade explosion does not fade once the water and kaiju fall to earth.

 _No. That isn’t the sound of an explosion_ , Yamaguchi realizes. _It’s Suga-san screaming._

The sound is horrific and scarring, burned into the pilots’ mind when they hear it. Usually so composed Suga-san, happy and helpful Suga-san, calm Suga-san…that man had been erased and replaced with a wild animal that wailed as if it had been set on fire and left to burn. The screaming does not fade or lessen, absorbing the entire wavelength of the com with howling sobs that they could hear wrack his body in the final verdict. _Sawamura Daichi was dead._

Saeko cuts off Koushi’s transmission. Taking a deep, steadying breath, she calls out to their last functional team. “Gold Strike…that kaiju…it’s still giving off a signature. It isn’t dead yet.”

 **Roger that** , Tsukishima’s voice replies, sharper and colder than ice. Gold Strike immediately shifts into sniping position despite the close range, pulling out the big gun. The kaiju stirs slightly, using a chunk of what used to be Apocalypto Alpha to right itself, a low groan coming from its throat. Tsukishima and Yamaguchi fix in on that throat, and as one they fire once. Twice. Four times. Six times. They keep on firing until the kaiju is decapitated, spilling its kaiju blue across the stormy waves.

Two silent golems stand in the ocean, buffeted by waves and too weak to move, the searchlights of the helicopters hunting them down to carry the shattered soldiers home.

 

\-----------------------------

 

“He’s fine, _he’s fine_ ,” Hinata snaps at the medical officers poking and prodding at a haggard Kageyama. “Leave him alone for god’s sake, we need to see Suga-san!” Hinata pulls roughly on Kageyama’s arm, freeing them from the crowd of worried doctors and nurses and towards the other two pilots. Tsukishima’s jaw is set and his posture is rigid and uninviting, while Yamaguchi has pulled his legs to his chest in an extremely defensive position, burying his face into his knees.

“Where is Suga-san?” Hinata demands of them. Yamaguchi doesn’t look up, but flinches from Hinata’s volume. Tsukishima shows no visible reaction, nor does Kageyama at his side. Hinata takes a furious breath, about to repeat his question, when a chorus of yells distracts all four pilots.

Approaching them rapidly was a group of medical officers centered around carrying and restraining a single person in the middle. _Suga-san_. All four pilots jolt to attention, broken from their stupors with the appearance of their superior. They anxiously watch as the group slowly moves towards them, when there’s one determined yell and Koushi bucks out of their grasp, falling to the floor. The medical officers move towards him again to help, but Koushi snarls at them, lashing out at whoever comes near him. Like the rest of them, he had been stripped of his drivesuit, but in Koushi’s case, that seemed to be a mistake. All along his arms are ferocious gashes, bleeding and ugly, coating every inch of bare skin. He was hugging himself still, digging his bloodied fingers in and trembling, shaking his head even when no one approached him.

A weak moan escapes his throat, a sound so sick all four pilots flinch. All at once, Koushi’s legs give out from underneath him and he collapses, curling into himself and spasming. His eyes go wide, nearly rolling back in his head and the sickly moan gives way to clipped wails and then howls of such pure and unadulterated pain, it’s like he’s being tortured. And he is—the howls give way to the sobbing of Daichi’s name, over and over again as he relives Daichi’s death again and again in a destructive loop. Kageyama knows this. He had seen it happen to Oikawa, but never as bad as this.

Kageyama is quick enough to pull Hinata into his chest and clamp his hands over his ears as Koushi starts to spasm and moan, shielding him from the brunt of Koushi’s illness. Tsukishima and Yamaguchi are not as lucky, watching the entire attack progress with ice in their limbs and sickness rising in their throats. Yamaguchi retches but can’t turn away, horrified.

“ _Koushi!_ ” The call is loud and familiar.

Asahi runs to Koushi’s side faster than he thought possible. He pulls the man into his lap, grabbing his face and forcing Koushi to look at him. “Koushi, Koushi, look at me!” Asahi commands. “Look me in the eyes; tell me what my name is!” Koushi shakes his head softly but Asahi reaches a hand back, hesitating for a moment before slapping him across the face.

Koushi comes to with scattered gasps, clawing at Asahi’s arms to steady himself, still shaking but able to look Asahi in the eyes. “Who am I, Koushi?” Asahi demands again, and Koushi stutters, taking a weak breath.

“A-Asahi,” he whispers. “Asahi…Asahi, oh _Asahi_ , he was…and then…” Koushi pauses, taking a few deeper breaths before looking back at Asahi. “Asahi he was so scared, he was so afraid to die, I felt it, I felt him die, he _drowned_ , Asahi! Out of everything that could have happened, I felt his panic and his terror as his body _fought to breathe!_ ”

“He regretted it,” Koushi says, voice small. “In the end, he regretted everything. He died so horribly and he didn’t even kill the kaiju, Asahi, he suffocated and died alone in the most horrible way for _nothing!_ _I should have died with him! Instead I’m stuck here, reliving the memory of Daichi’s death and we’re **both** alone!_”

“I’m here,” Asahi whispers, hugging Koushi tightly while the other tried to escape, pushing at him. “I’m here, you’re not alone.”

“I wish I was dead,” Koushi chokes out.

“I know,” Asahi says, closing his eyes tightly. “I know.” He lifts Koushi’s frail body into his arms, following the medical officers to the hospital, tears dripping down his cheeks, too. And in his arms, tiny and a shell of his former self, Koushi moans his desire for death endlessly, clutching Daichi’s dog tags like a lifeline.

 

\--------------------------

 

When Asahi finally returns to their shared room, pushing open the door with a tired squeak, Noya jolts to his feet, hands balled at his sides. Asahi looks up at him, and all the courage in Noya's heart dies at the deep bags beneath his eyes and the defeated darkness within his eyes, almost refusing to reflect the light of their room. Noya swallows, but does not back down. He opens his mouth—  
  
"Don't. Please, Yuu, don't," Asahi says wearily, turning to close and lock their door.  
  
Noya is incredulous. "You don't even know what I was going to say!"  
  
Asahi walks towards him but does not make eye contact. He shakes his head, morose. "Oh, maybe not exactly. But if it's something like an apology or blame towards yourself for not trusting my calculations, then I can't accept it. Yours was the logical mindset; you have nothing to take responsibility for." Asahi walks into their kitchenette, pouring himself a cup of water and splashing his face in the stream.  
  
"But if we had taken you more seriously! Taken any precautions at all!" Noya exclaims, stepping towards Asahi. "Maybe then—"  
  
“ _Yuu._ ” Asahi's voice leaves no room for argument. He exhales, long and loud. Noya reaches a hand up to smooth at the tension in his back. At the contact, Asahi flips around to pull Noya into a warm, bone-crushing hug. Noya squeaks at the contact, surprised, but he feels the light trembling in Asahi's limbs and settles, wrapping his arms around Asahi in return and kissing his temple.  
  
"Don't disappear," Asahi whispers, voice heavy, and Noya understands.  
  
It's the one and only time Asahi shares his singular, selfish desire. _Don't let me end up like Suga_ , is what he's not saying, and Noya has to swallow again, thickly, choking back tears that tremble unshed. Asahi doesn't hesitate, wetting Noya's shoulder with his tears but with silence that speaks of self-hatred. Shouldn't he be sad over Daichi? Shouldn't he be trying to help Koushi? Yet here he was, begging for his own life to hold itself together. How selfish. How cruel.  
  
Only, it wasn't.  
  
Noya breaks from Asahi to pull him to their bed, coaxing him with gentle words and the promise of touch. They hold each other tightly, Noya tucked into Asahi's chest and their legs twined together tightly. Asahi is still crying those frighteningly quiet tears, not allowing himself to let go. Noya kisses his tear streaks anxiously, wanting to know what was wrong. Wanting to know how to help.  
  
"Asahi..." He begun. "It's okay to want to protect what we have. It's okay to come to me for help even if...even if some of us can't go to their significant others. This is only natural, please don't torture yourself like this."  
  
Asahi takes a deep breath and rubs along Noya's side absently. "I should have insisted. I should h—"  
  
"No, no, you can't blame yourself for something like th—"  
  
"No, listen to me, Yuu. This is my burden to bear. It's _my_ job to ensure anomalies like this don't just _happen_ , I'm supposed to accurately predict and help stop them. If I had tried to push the Marshal harder on prepping for this, then maybe Daichi—and Koushi—" Asahi squeezes his eyes shut, shuddering.  
  
Noya shakes his head, reaching up to still Asahi's when he balked at Noya's defense of him. "Can you control a kaiju?"  
  
Asahi blinked at him, like he had just asked something ridiculous, which, granted, he had. "Of course not."  
  
Noya nods. "And who's the expert on the kaiju?"  
  
"You?" Asahi replied, dumbfounded.  
  
"That's right. Me. And let me tell you, I have spent the latter half of my life studying kaiju, and never, _ever_ , do they fight 100% according to plan. They evolve; they learn. There's no way we can know what kind of kaiju will appear or what it can do—they are from beyond our realm of knowledge. And yet, you have managed to accurately predict what times they will appear through mathematics." Noya takes a breath. "The fact that you can do that alone is amazing. No one expected more, and yet you still gave it. Asahi, you did everything you could do. Sometimes the kaiju are just...better."  
  
Asahi is quiet for a moment. But then his shoulders slump and he whispers so quietly Noya almost doesn't hear him. "God, if you had seen him, Yuu. If you had seen what losing Daichi did to him...you may not have forgiven me so easily."  
  
Noya's blood runs cold.  
  
\---------------  
  
Daichi's death—the first pilot death in the Miyagi base's short history—brought the morale of the entire base crashing down with him.  
  
No sector was left untouched. In tech training, Saeko, who had witnessed the entire event and Michimiya, a childhood friend of Daichi's, lacked the focus to train new recruits and had to pass most of their classes on to the graduated Jaeger techs. The fact that there was now greater pressure on them to find promising new recruits only worsened their lack of motivation, and grief left the base barely functional with the absence of the two greatest technological minds.  
  
Engineering scientists combined with mechanics to sort through and recover whatever was left of Apocalypto Alpha's wreckage. Like any other battle, large chunks of metal were airlifted from the ocean to be scavenged and recycled in order to save the base money, but when the entire carcass of a Jaeger lay before him, Tanaka felt illness churn in his stomach. The rest of his crew were uneasy, too—AA, marred as she was, still shone silver and gold. If one ignored all the tears and dents in the armor, it was almost like she could be recovered.  
  
"Do you think they removed his body?" One of the mechanics whispers to another.  
  
"Shut up!" The other hisses. "Be more goddamn respectful of the dead!"  
  
But Tanaka is already doubled over, retching out the contents of his stomach, whether it was the idea of seeing Daichi's bloated dead body and bulging eyes or an attempt to purge all the pain from his body, Tanaka never really knew.  
  
To the cadets, the Jaeger pilots were veritable heroes, and to see one fall in battle was tantamount to destroying any desire they had to improve their own skills. Perhaps it was the fear that they too would die like he had, or maybe just the end of hero-worship and the grieving that followed—either way, the cadets could not be stirred to push their limits or do much else besides the normal routine. And the officers, known for the harshness of their punishment where slacking and laziness were concerned, couldn't be bothered to even raise their voices to scold.  
  
Kiyoko holed herself up in the Kwoon Room, practicing until she passed out more often than not.  
  
Even the Marshal, usually so detached and formal, resented handing out paperwork and issuing orders to find a new point team. Hated it, actually.  
  
Slamming the file on his desk with unnecessary force, Marshal Ukai evened the papers out, a muscle in his jaw working. He threw open the file drawer, tossed in the file, and slammed it shut again, each rapid and loud noise causing his visitor to jump. Takeda-sensei fiddled with his glasses nervously until he finally had Ukai's attention.  
  
"Marshal Ukai, we really must finalize the preparations for the funeral."  
  
"Fuck the funeral," Ukai hisses decisively. "I just lost one of the best—no, fuck it, he was _the_ best Ranger I've worked with since I was chosen to run this base--and you expect me to talk about what _flower arrangements_ will be stacked around his _grave_?"  
  
Takeda knows that Ukai isn't angry at him, specifically. Maybe mildly irritated. He's angry at the war and at the injustice of what happened to Sawamura Daichi when he was standing right there in Mission Control, unable to lift a finger to help him. It's the feeling of an ex-pilot who has lived and breathed in that same exact way, risked his life in the same exact way, and understands the gravity of the loss.  
  
Distraction or progress are not what the Marshal needs. What he needs—who he needs—is someone to rely on and to mourn with.  
  
"Keishin," Takeda murmurs, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You haven't...talked to anyone, have you?"  
  
Ukai laughs. "Of the three I would go to, one is dead, another is grieving more than I, and the third suffers a fate worse than death." Takeda rubs circles along the tense lines of Ukai's back.  
  
"I am not the professionals they are, and I don't know what it means to struggle and fight, but...if I can be of any service to you, I just want to let you know that I am here," Takeda says hesitantly.  
  
The Marshal blinks and looks at him as if really seeing him for the first time. A man with such an honest desire to help and to heal...well. Ukai leans down kisses him on the side of his mouth.  
  
"You are enough," Ukai says gruffly but with an edge of affection that makes Takeda's hand slide down to Ukai's waist and hold him there, his other hand joining on the opposite side, as if to anchor Ukai in place. Ukai kisses his forehead. "You are enough."  
  
\------------------  
  
"Sawamura Daichi was a great man," the speaker began. "A bastion of peace and stability; a warrior who nobly rode into battle—fearless until the very end."  
  
Hinata stops listening after that, his skin crawling. The speaker is some pompous military man with more ribbons and medals on his chest than there were ornaments on a Christmas tree. He had flown in to speak on Daichi—a man he had never met—and then fly out, carrying with him a video byte that would put him in a good light, should he ever need the political manipulation. Hinata is certain that this guy hasn't the first idea about Daichi or what 'bastion of peace' even meant. Granted, Hinata only knew one of the two, but he clearly wasn’t here as a publicity stunt. Even the Marshal was pursing his lips in barely concealed irritation.

He blatantly refuses to clap after the speech, even at Kageyama’s insistent elbowing. The Marshal gets up next to give a eulogy on how hard and humbly Daichi worked, how he was an inspiration to everyone and loved by all, and Hinata doesn’t listen again, this time because tears are pricking at his eyes with every honest word out of Marshal Ukai’s mouth. Hinata doesn’t want to cry in front of all these strangers dressed in their nicest black uniforms, hats tucked at their sides. He doesn’t want to cry when there are more white flowers than he’s seen in months all around the memorial service and all he can think about is how Koushi and Asahi and Noya aren’t even here.

Hinata’s sick of fucking crying all the time, whether it’s him or the people around him. He’s suffocated and wants to run, but he sits in that uncomfortable folding chair and too-comfortable uniform because that’s what Daichi would have told him to do, elbowing him in a knowing way and pointing out someone with a ridiculous outfit on or starting some kind of game to keep both himself and Hinata entertained. Daichi would have known what to do with a blubbering Jaeger tech on his left and _Kageyama_ on his right.

_But Daichi was dead, now, wasn’t he?_

A pastor or clergyman of some kind says a prayer and then they’re released, Hinata shooting out of his seat so fast he nearly rockets into Kiyoko, who steadies him and nods a little in understanding. Hinata loosens his collar, turning his back on the silvery grave of his mentor and friend and storms away. He won’t stand around and talk about ‘what a fine memorial service it was’ or ‘how well everyone spoke’, he _won’t_.

_In the end, they don’t really care for Daichi at all, do they?_

“ _Hey,_ ” Kageyama hisses, grabbing Hinata by the arm and pulling him to the side. “Just where the hell do you think you’re going?”

“Oh I don’t know,” Hinata says breezily. “Why don’t you just follow me, I mean we have a bond—oh…wait…”

Kageyama releases him and recoils as if burned. “ _How dare you_ , after all that’s happened—”

“After all that’s happened?” Hinata stares at him incredulously. “Kageyama…you kept a past history of _trauma_ from me. Me. You know, the one person you need to put faith in above all else? How could you not tell me?”

“It’s not your business,” Kageyama growls. “I was trying to _protect_ you.”

Hinata feels frustrated tears build behind his eyes. “Not my…Kageyama, I saw _everything_. I saw how much that tore you apart, redefined your entire world and built in a lingering sense of fear that I would leave you like he did…” Hinata stumbles in his words, one hand fluttering for Kageyama’s. “You’re my partner. I _care_ about you and I want to _help_ you. How can you say this isn’t any of my business?”

“Even when Suga-san…” Hinata swallows. “Even when he had that…fit, you were trying to protect me. Did you never consider that I would want to do the same for you?”

“Hinata…” Kageyama starts, voice small. But then he shakes his head and the softness is gone. “No, it doesn’t matter anymore. If anything, this whole situation proves that Ghost Drifting is dangerous more than it is helpful. It was a useful crutch for a while but…no more.”

“So you’re going to shut me out again, after all that,” Hinata says, incredulous. “After I’ve seen everything and we could fix this, we could heal.”

“Hinata, I’m doing this because I l—” Kageyama chokes on the word halfway through, balling his hands into fists.

“Can’t even say it now, can you,” he scoffs. Hinata barks out a laugh. “You know what…fuck you, Kageyama. Just…fuck you.” He turns tightly and storms off, his heart aching and with no second soul to reach to.

 

\----------------------

 

Yamaguchi went ahead of him after the service.

Tsukishima didn’t think much of it; Yamaguchi had been pretty subdued the whole time, it was probably emotionally exhausting for him. He had been too busy thinking about how Daichi would be rolling in his grave if he saw the gross excess wasted on his death and the hive of people attending his funeral—people he didn’t even know—to cry and to talk about him, while his actual friends snapped their jaws shut and burned. It was absolutely disgusting. Seven rows in front him, Hinata had been fidgeting and curling his lip the whole time, practically a mirror of Tsukishima’s internal disdain.

He decided to pass on the wine after all.

Excusing himself, Tsukishima made his way through the throng of people, working his way back to the base where he planned to take a long, scalding-hot bath and sleep for the rest of the day. He was tired from all the fakeness of the people around him.

Tsukishima clicked their door open silently in case Yamaguchi was sleeping, discarding his older jacket on their table by the door. He takes a few long strides into their living room and is about to come into view of the bedroom when a muffled sob stops him. His entire body goes painfully rigid.

It’s Yamaguchi.

Stealthily as possible, Tsukishima peers around the doorway into their room, only to see a tiny ball of Yamaguchi curled up on the floor next to his bed, one hand clamped over his mouth and the other digging half-moons into his arm. Tears stream down his face and he shudders with the weight of another sob, this one coming out as a faint whine. He’s rocking back and forth a little, eyes squeezed shut so tightly, Tsukishima doubts he’ll be able to open them.

Yamaguchi looks as if he has the weight of the world on his shoulders, and it’s the first time he hasn’t come to Tsukishima for help in all their years together. Tsukishima feels a pang of confusion and something deeper and infinitely more painful.

 _Ah, what is this feeling in my chest, again?_ Tsukishima wonders. _That’s right—sorrow._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from '[ **Maps**](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zn0cxiXbZ8I)' by Falling Up ~~(see it's funny bc daichi has black hair and he drowned)~~
> 
> i'd like to apologize to mom, dad, and also jesus.


	8. what a shipwreck, what a shipwreck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't even know where to begin. thank you, THANK YOU EVERYONE for the response to this fic. i know last chapter was a tough one, but i got so many nice comments and arts and reactions that i'm speechless. thank you for telling your friends and thank you for making my fic blow up the way it has.
> 
>    
>  **DO YOU LIKE NICE ARTS?? I LIKE NICE ARTS:**
> 
> [ **daichi & suga in uniform**](http://badenlily.tumblr.com/post/109086181154/) // [badenlily](http://www.badenlily.tumblr.com)  
> [ **iwaoi + kageyama scenes**](http://refrainbow.tumblr.com/post/106718791208/) // [refrainbow](http://www.refrainbow.tumblr.com)  
> [ **happy daisugs**](http://kitkatsgalore.tumblr.com/post/106884043598/), [**married daisugs,** ](http://kitkatsgalore.tumblr.com/post/106986430353/)[**here without you baby**](http://kitkatsgalore.tumblr.com/post/107040154948/), [**you can find me in the drift**](http://kitkatsgalore.tumblr.com/post/107162550848/) // [kitkatsgalore](http://www.kitkatsgalore.tumblr.com)  
> [ **suga's meltdown**](http://oboisthinata.tumblr.com/post/106362791743/) // [DEVON](http://www.oboisthinata.tumblr.com)  
> [ **??!?!? THIS IS PURE PAIN DONT ???**](http://hinata.god.jp/post/109540954907) // [venkun](http://www.venkun.tumblr.com)  
> [ **suga_crying_ryan_crying.jpg**](http://sunnnybox.tumblr.com/post/109334452117/) // [sunnnybox](http://www.sunnnybox.tumblr.com)  
> [ **RED STRING OF FATE**](http://officialpetermaximoff.tumblr.com/post/109737377748/) // [officialpetermaximoff](http://www.officialpetermaximoff.tumblr.com)  
> [ **"but for me there is hapPIER TIMES"**](https://twitter.com/onettfarts/status/560361237423206402) // [kie](https://twitter.com/onettfarts/)
> 
>  
> 
> **FANMIXES TOO HOLY SHI:**  
>     
> [ **Losing My Breath**](http://8tracks.com/shegry/losing-my-breath) // [**but for me, there is a storm**](http://8tracks.com/meredypond/but-for-me-there-is-a-storm) // [**happy endings are stories that haven't ended yet**](http://8tracks.com/tomlindrunk/happy-endings-are-stories-that-haven-t-ended-yet) // [**but for me there is a storm**](http://8tracks.com/kyllex/but-for-me-there-is-a-storm) // [**if you love me let me go**](http://8tracks.com/haywoods/if-you-love-me-let-me-go-1) // [**animal**](http://8tracks.com/indigopetals/animal)
> 
>  
> 
>  **IMPORTANT NOTES:**  
>  if you haven't noticed already, **there will be two (2) non-binary characters** in this fic: akaashi (agender) and kenma (genderfluid). as an agender person myself, i'll be relying on my experiences to write akaashi, but i'm flying somewhat blind with kenma. please feel free to tell me if i'm doing something horribly wrong, but remember: this fic is not about their gender. it's just another part of them.
> 
> akaashi is using they/them pronouns, and kenma will be using he/she/they (they from narrator's pov). only kuroo, akaashi, and eventually hinata will be switching up kenma's pronouns, b/c they are the closest to them. don't get freaked out if there's a pronoun change! it's on purpose.
> 
> additionally, 'kuro' is kenma's canon nickname for kuroo and i'm using it :)

“Nii-chan, nii-chan!”

Akiteru shifts the heavy backpack on his shoulder and turns around to see his little brother throwing the door to his room open ( _smack_ ) and barreling down the stairs ( _thudthud **thud**_ ) before ramming Akiteru full speed. Akiteru huffs as the wind is knocked out of him, grinning down at the tiny bubble of energy attached to his waist.

“Thought you weren’t gonna see me off, Kei—I got worried,” Akiteru teases, ruffling his brother’s hair.

Kei jumps away from him as fast as he had leapt at him, scowling and patting down his hair fruitlessly. He makes a face at Akiteru as his older brother snickers at the unkempt mop of hair, never tame on an early morning such as this. He rubs at his cheek, knocking his glasses askew, and Akiteru feels a certain tugging in his heart that softens his smirk into a gentle smile.

“Maybe I’ll just go back to my room,” Kei threatens. It’s as empty a threat as the lopsided ceramic bowl that holds the family’s keys. Akiteru twirls his house key around his finger and crouches down, letting his backpack slide off.

He motions for Kei to come back to him. “C’mon, you wouldn’t do that to your poor nii-chan, would you? I might cry if you don’t give me a proper send-off.” Akiteru sticks his bottom lip out dramatically.

“Faker.” Kei rolls his eyes but allows himself to be pulled back into an embrace. Akiteru hugs him tightly—just a little too tightly—and Kei knows something is up. “Nii-chan?”

“I’m gonna miss you while I’m gone, Kei,” Akiteru says with blatant honesty. “Don’t grow too tall, okay?”

Kei goes red in embarrassment as Akiteru releases him. “Why’re you getting all mushy? It’s gross.”

Akiteru laughs, loud and genuine. “That’s my little bro, alright. You play nice alright? I know you don’t like ‘all the other dumb kids’ but you can’t depend on me to be your best friend for forever. Go out and meet someone new already!”

Kei huffs. “Fine, whatever. As long as you go and kick some kaiju a—good morning, Mom.”

Tsukishima Mari yawns and plods over to her boys, clad in bunny slippers and matching bathrobe. She shoots Kei a mischievous and knowing look, kissing both of them on their foreheads (only Kei winced and rubbed at the spot furiously, though).

“Akiteru, honey, I thought you were going to leave at ten. I haven’t even had my cup of tea yet,” Mari says, smiling with the same soft smile Akiteru always wore, although her brow was crinkled in concern. Akiteru shrugged one shoulder.

“Thought it wouldn’t hurt to catch the earlier bus. I didn’t want to bother the whole family to wake up just to see me off. Besides,” he pokes Kei in the side, “I knew this little knucklehead would get up no matter what. It’s Dad’s day off. He deserves to sleep in.”

Mari touches his cheek with the back of her hand, sighing. “You’ve grown up quite a bit, haven’t you? But you know you can always come home, right? If the program isn’t everything it’s cracked up to be…”

“Oh don’t worry about me,” Akiteru dismisses her concerns gently, picking up his bag again. “I may be soft, but I’m not _that_ soft. I won’t let anyone walk over me.”

“You’re going to be the greatest pilot ever, nii-chan!” Kei blurts out. “Those kaiju won’t know what hit them!”

Akiteru holds out a fist and Kei bumps it, their grins matching. “You know it.”

When he finally leaves out the front door of their home—the only one they had ever lived in—Kei feels part of his heart leave with him. Akiteru was not just his big brother—he was a role model, a best friend, an unchanging quantity on Kei’s life, and someone he could always depend on. Having him so far away felt a lot like growing up, and even though Kei was in middle school now and too old to cry, he still hated the distance between him and his brother with every fiber of his being. He sniffed, loud and wet, by accident, and rubbed at his nose furiously to try and hide the evidence. But when he looked up at his mother, her cheeks were damp too and Kei thought it might be okay—just this once—to cry a little bit.

Besides, nii-chan was going to be a crazy cool Ranger and his eyes had been wet, too.

 

\---------------------------

 

When Akiteru comes home for Christmas, Kei lights up brighter than any of the lights and paper lanterns hanging around town. It’s not a surprise—not really—but Akiteru hadn’t told them when he was getting off of work. His sudden appearance three days prior to Christmas comes as a shock to everyone.

“Ho, ho, h—oof! Hello to you too, Kei!” Akiteru breaks off with a laugh, returning his brother’s enthusiastic hug.

“Nii-chan, you came back! I can’t believe you haven’t been eaten by a kaiju yet,” Kei adds with a grin.

Akiteru cuffs him fondly. “You brat, I just called you last week. Uncute as always.” Kei’s eyes shine in a mix of victory over his brother and happiness to see him. Akiteru sticks his tongue out at Kei in response, but he feels warmer than he’d felt all winter, even in taking off his jacket.

His parents surround him with cheerful greetings and hugs of their own, his mom commenting on how he was starting to really fill out and his dad adding that Akiteru looked much more mature, even after a few months of training. Akiteru ducks his head at the praise, waving them off humbly. He settles in with only one duffel, stating that he can’t stay more than two weeks or so before he has to return to training.

“Yeah, things are a lot different from what I expected at the base,” Akiteru replies to his dad’s question about the training. He pours himself some eggnog, looking thoughtful. “It’s really tough, for sure—but at the same I know I’m doing important work for the greater good. It’s not like I’m stuck in some dead-end job while the world goes mad.”

Kei flops down on the couch next to Akiteru, eager for stories about the robots taller than buildings and the monsters taller than robots. He wants to know what the Shatterdome smells like and if Akiteru can hear himself think over the clatter of machinery and if the Marshal can really kill a man with just one glance. He wants to know about this fantastical and heroic life his brother leads—a far cry from the dull routine of Kei’s school life. He voices these desires, and his mother tuts at him.

“For goodness’ sake, Kei, let your brother sit down and put his feet up before you bombard him with questions. He’s only just gotten home.”

Akiteru grins secretively and elbows him. “Tell you everything later, okay? For now, I want to hear about what you guys have been getting up to.”

Such was the curse of having a selfless brother who genuinely cared about their boring lives. Akiteru listened attentively through their dad’s various amusing anecdotes from the family grocery store, laughing in all the right places as Kei fidgeted impatiently through the stories he already knew. He slumped and slid forward—nearly off the couch—when their mom picked up the conversation and told Akiteru about all the people asking about him as well as how the family friends were doing. Kei was literally going to die of boredom.

“Kei, if you can’t sit still, maybe you should go play outside for a little while,” Tsukishima Soichiro suggested somewhat sternly, eyeing his younger son. Kei blushed red-hot, humiliated at being scolded so soon after Akiteru had gotten home. He slunk out of the room, chastised, picking up his old volleyball before wandering out into their backyard.

He tossed around the volleyball for a while, absentmindedly but distractedly. He was anxious about talking to his brother. It wasn’t very fair of his parents to keep him from seeing Akiteru. What if Akiteru was regaling them with fantastical tales while Kei stood around, foolishly playing with a volleyball? He had just about made up his mind to go back inside when the door slid open and his brother stepped out onto the cool grass.

“Kei.” Akiteru didn’t need to say more. Kei shuffled over to him, and together they sat on the step, lit only by the dim porch light and the indoor kitchen lights. Kei twirled the volleyball in his hands, strangely nervous around this person with such a composed air about him. Could a few months in military training really change his brother so? Kei peered at Akiteru, but Akiteru had an almost blank look to his eyes, just taking in the low hum of the town night life and the barely puffin breeze that hardly stirred their windchimes.

“You didn’t grow much,” Akiteru says finally, cracking a wide smile. The statement is enough to break the weird tension between them and Kei pouts.

“You haven’t been gone all that long. I’m taller than you were at this age, anyway,” Kei grumbles.

“Nah, you’re still just as cute as before,” Akiteru argues, slinging an arm around Kei’s shoulders. “It’s good to be home. I missed you.”

Kei turns his head into Akiteru’s arm and mutters something that might have been “me too” or maybe just another protest, but he had. He had missed Akiteru terribly, and even though he knew Akiteru was off learning how to punch kaiju in the face, Kei still felt that lingering sense of being abandoned and put second in Akiteru’s life.

“Tell me about base,” Kei asks in attempt to distract his brother from sentimental musings.

Akiteru hums thoughtfully. “Well…it’s definitely bigger than I ever could have imagined. With all those passages and hallways, I probably haven’t explored more than a third of the entire thing. You know the school gym I played volleyball in? The Shatterdome is like, a hundred times bigger. And there’s so much activity in there! When you think ‘kaiju response team’, you think the pilots and the Jaeger techs, but really, all the engineers and mechanics are just as important. The base wouldn’t run without them.”

“Okay, but what about you? What are all the cadets doing?” Kei asks, shifting so he’s leaning against half of Akiteru’s chest. As such, he missed the way Akiteru’s eyes cloud, the way he swallows with difficulty, and the unmistakable falter in his smile. He remains quiet for a beat too long and Kei looks up, prompting him with a soft “Nii-chan?”

“Right, right. We…we do a whole range of exercises. Some of it is physical training; some of it is preparation for the Drift. Those exercises…those are the hardest,” Akiteru responds quietly.

Kei scrunches up his nose. “How? All you’re doing is thinking at another person.”

“In theory, yes,” Akiteru agrees with a smile. “But it’s much harder to match wavelengths with a person than you’d think. That’s why we usually test in the Kwoon Room prior to test Drifts, but so far all the preliminary testing has been solo.”

“You’re good with people though, nii-chan,” Kei murmurs. “I’m sure it’s not all that hard for someone like you who’s compatible with everyone.”

“…Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

A pause.

“Hey, do you want to see some cool pictures I snapped of the most recent kaiju attack? I happened to be observing at the time of the attack and they’re better than that grainy TV we’ve got. I know you’re crazy about kaiju.”

Kei takes the bait. Akiteru fishes his phone out of his pocket and he flips through pictures of the kaiju—both when it was living and fighting (those pictures were more blurred) as well as when it was dead (those were really high def and Kei practically bounced in place seeing them). Akiteru also showed him a few photos of the mess hall, the Shatterdome, and his living quarters.

“You have it nice here, Kei,” Akiteru lamented. “Room to actually spread your legs out and fresh air and mom’s cooking…you’re very lucky to have all of this—even if I can tell from that face you’re pulling that you don’t appreciate it.”

“It’s _boring_ ,” Kei admits. “I want to have an adventurous life like you, nii-chan.”

Akiteru flicks Kei on his forehead, earning a yelp of surprise. “Don’t be so quick to grow up, silly. Enjoy the simplicity while it lasts. Soon enough you won’t be a kid anymore and you’ll wonder where all that easy living went.”

Kei doesn’t stop grimacing, but his face does soften a little when he considers that he’s probably a bit lucky—Akiteru is his nii-chan, after all. No one else in his class gets to have such a reliable brother, and most of them fight with their siblings. Kei snuggles back into Akiteru, earning him a puff of a laugh.

Yeah, he was lucky to have such a cool person as his big brother. Not that he’d ever admit it aloud.

 

\-------------------

 

“And so—and so—oh, you won’t believe what happened next…!”

_“Oh? What’d he do?”_

“Yamaguchi just burst into tears! What was I supposed to do in a situation like that?”

_“Hold on—all this because you wouldn’t let him switch the channel to watch the show on—what were they called? Snow hamsters?”_

“Lemmings. And it wasn’t about that; turns out he’s scared to death of sharks. In the end we compromised by watching Walking With Dinosaurs again, but nii-chan, it was awful.”

_“Oh my, little Kei has to learn how to deal with other people’s emotions, how **terrible.** ”_

“Nii-chan…”

_“I’m serious, Kei. It’s a good thing that you’ve made friends with Tadashi-kun. I was really worried that you’d never step outside your shell. He’ll be a learning experience for sure, but I think from what you tell me that he really likes you! What’d you do when he started crying?”_

Kei makes a face at his brother’s words and sulkily flips to his other side, glaring out the window. “I told him to stop being a baby.”

_“And?”_

Kei screws his face up into a nastier scowl. “He started crying louder.”

Akiteru’s raucous laughter fills the room he’s in hundreds of miles away, Kei can hear the echoes bounce off the walls and back through the receiver.

_“Oh, Kei, I’m so sorry for laughing; it’s just absolutely something you would do.”_

“Well, when that happened, I patted his back and said ‘there, there’ like Satoshi-sensei always does and he calmed down,” Kei sniffed.

 _“That’s big of you,”_ Akiteru allows. There’s a beat of silence and then, _“I miss you and Mom and Dad a lot.”_

“Don’t worry about us,” Kei huffs. “We’re doing fine—you need to worry about your training. How’s your search for a co-pilot coming along?”

_“Oh…you know…it’s pretty rough finding one, especially so early. A few people have paired up, but it’s nothing to get anxious about, I guess.”_

“It’s been six months, though,” Kei pouts. “I want to see your Jaeger.”

Akiteru laughs too loud, too awkward. _“Whoa there, kid. Most pilots don’t get their own Jaeger commissioned when they first start out piloting. I have to earn my way up the ranks.”_

“Hmph,” Kei concedes. “Well, when you do, I want you to bring me something cool.”

_“Oh? Like what?”_

“I don’t know! Maybe an action figure of your Jaeger, or dog tags, or some scrap of metal off of it. Just something cool. Promise you will, okay?”

_“That’s a promise, Kei.”_

Kei allows a small smile to slide across his face. “Good. Come home soon, okay, nii-chan?”

_“You know I’ll try.”_

 

\------------------

 

“My dad’s a lawyer.”

“Oh yeah? Well my mom is a fashion photographer.”

“Ha! That’s nothing! My dad’s the CEO of his own company.”

“Okay, well my dad…”

Kei tunes out the squabbling of his classmates with the absentminded ease of someone who found them to be about as interesting as watching the grass grow. He drops his bag by his desk and practically falls into it, propping his chin up with his arm and allowing himself to zone out. Another seven hours of educational torture and monotony, then. He couldn’t wait to get to high school—Akiteru said it was infinitely more interesting than middle school—but until then, he was trapped in this cesspool of idiocy that was supposed to be the advanced class.

Yamaguchi hops into the desk in front of Kei, eyes twinkling and a chipper smile on his face as he flips around in his chair to face his best friend. “Good morning, Tsukki!”

Kei flicks him on the forehead, earning a yelp of pain. “Idiot, I told you not to call me that already.” Unfortunately, it was as if by calling him by that dumb nickname planted a neon-flashing arrow straight at Kei. Their classmates quieted for a moment and then swarmed Kei’s desk, their calls of ‘Tsukishima! Tsukishima!’ grating on his nerves and making his head pound.

“What?” he grumbled, determined to be as unpleasant as possible. He was one of the few kids in their class who wore glasses, and when combined with the sharp golden brown of his eyes, his glares became quite fearsome. But in a mob, fear was a near non-existent entity, leaving Kei’s usually so potent scowls useless.

“Tsukishima-kun, what do your parents do?” One of the braver girls dares to ask. Kei clicks his tongue disapprovingly. That boring conversation topic, still? He didn’t want any part of it.

“Nothing that would be of any interest to you,” Kei grumbles, voice cold.

“Aw, c’mon!” Another voice chimes in from farther back. “Everyone else has said theirs already!”

The idea of caving in to peer pressure made Kei bristle in irritation, but if he didn’t then the spotlight shined on him would only grow, and that’s the last thing he wanted. He straightens up and sniffs, looking away from the group of pushy kids and Yamaguchi’s hopeful expression.

“Well…my parents really are boring. But my brother…he’s kind of cool, I guess,” Kei grinds out. He glances over his shoulder to see expectant looks and flushes red. “He’s, um. A pilot.”

“Cool!” Kagami, one of the boys, exclaims. “My cousin is a pilot, too! He flies out on private tours.”

“Ah.” Kei realizes he hadn’t been specific enough. “Akiteru is…a Jaeger pilot in training, I mean.”

 _That_ gets the class’s attention.

Immediately, Kei is bombarded with a flurry of questions. How’d he get that job? What does the Shatterdome look like? Are the Jaegers really as huge as they say? Has he killed a kaiju yet? Kei reels back, horrified at the opposite reaction than what he’d been hoping for. But even Yamaguchi is looking at him, starry-eyed, and Kei knows that he’s dug himself too deep to back out now.

“He’s not a pilot yet, sheesh! And I haven’t even been to the base, so stop bothering me!” Kei snaps, only successful in quelling the group a little.

“I don’t believe it,” Kagami breathes, and Kei’s attention turns to him. He narrows his eyes.

“You better. Akiteru is at the top of his class,” Kei boasts. “He’s gonna be a pilot really soon—as soon as he can find a co-pilot. He’ll get his own Jaeger, too, because he’s so good!” Okay, so maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration. But Kei wasn’t going to let some snot-nosed brat defame his brother in front of their whole class.

Akiteru meant too much to him to allow that. After all, Akiteru was his…his…

Satoshi-sensei walks in then, hurrying the rest of the class to their desks for attendance. Kei holds his head high and proud during roll. Well, whatever. Kagami could believe what he wanted; it would never change the truth. Akiteru was amazing and…

…Akiteru was his hero.

 

\----------------

 

The sound of the door opening is too loud, when he pushes on it. The squeaking slide of metal on metal reverberates down the long hallway, emphasizing just how empty it is. He slides in like a shadow, hunched and peering, like he doesn’t belong here.

Well. He’s not _wrong_. This is no place for people like him.

His steps echo just as loudly on the linoleum floor, the chorusing _swish, swish_ of his jacket making the sound even more noticeable. He walks lighter—this is not a place to be disturbed by one man’s noisiness. A nurse passes him, head ducked and avoiding eye contact with him. That’s the way they all are, here. Respectful of the visitors’ privacy.

The memory is still almost too vivid for Tsukishima to bear.

_(“Hello, is this the Tsukishima household?”_

_“Ah, yes. Tsukishima Kei speaking. Who is calling?”_

_“My name is Lieutenant Yamazaki, from the Tokyo Base of Kaiju Defense. May I speak with a Tsukishima Mari?”_

_“…Of course, sir. Um…is everything alright?”)_

Tsukishima turns a corner tightly, his pace slowing to a creep when he faces the too familiar final hallway. His hands slide into his jacket pockets and he glares steadily at the ground. He glares at the shine of the ugly fluorescent light, glares at the ugly checkered pattern of the tiles, glares at the ugly dress shoes he had been given by the base. Each step is an exhausting mile, like dragging a ball and chain behind him, although part of him still wants to go flying ahead.

He’s wound up like a spring, but in the past where he might have let himself go, now he has the strength and self-control to do no more than work his jaw and keep taking baby steps. At least his mother should be gone by now. That was one comfort.

_(“But…but he wouldn’t have been out in the middle of a kaiju fight. He’d be back at the base.”_

_“Kei, listen to me baby—”_

_“No! No, I won’t! That man was lying! **Akiteru is a pilot!** ”_

_But sheer volume alone could not erase the truth that Tsukishima Akiteru, Jaeger mechanic, had been on a bus back to Miyagi when a kaiju made landfall. And in the middle of the fight, a large piece of rubble had smashed into the bus and—)_

His hand hesitates on the doorknob. But it’s stupid to come all this way for nothing, so he opens it.

Tsukishima sees it, clear as day. His younger self rushes past Tsukishima so fast he can nearly feel the flutter of wind brush his jacket and ruffle his hair. He watches the illusion a moment longer—that desperately scared, overwhelmed and disbelieving child trembles at his brother’s bedside, taking a cold hand in his own and shaking Akiteru almost as much as he himself was shaking. But there was nothing a teenager could do to wake his brother from a peaceful nine year slumber.

He shakes himself free from the memory, like brushing through cobwebs. That Tsukishima Kei was someone from a different life and a different time. This one—this was the Tsukishima Kei who had closed himself off since his brother fell into a coma, pushed everyone from friends to family away; the one who almost wished Kagami had said “told you so” back then, if only to break that awful, pitying silence.

Tsukishima sits at his brother’s side, the only sounds in the room the steady, healthy _bip…bip…bip_ of the heart rate monitor and the soft hum of the hospital machinery keeping his brother alive. He doesn’t look at Akiteru, focusing instead on the far wall. It’s colorless and undecorated—after all, why would a comatose patient need some obnoxiously cheerful poster hanging on their wall? The room is as devoid of decoration as Tsukishima’s mind is carefully blank.

(He does not regard the fresh flowers on the counter. They are yellow and brown in the center, stalks still green and resting idly in a clear vase with clear water. Scattered around the base are curled, long-dead leaves and wrinkled petals that have yet to be removed. He acknowledges their existence but does not think of the person who left them for his brother, weeping for the children she has lost.)

(Kei was as good as dead to her and Akiteru had always been the favorite, anyway.)

Tsukishima—the only one that actually had his act together—brought nothing with him besides his casual clothes for when they were allowed into town and his nicer shoes, too shiny and expensive to wear to a hospital. It’s not like Akiteru would have cared how he dressed. Yet, he regrets his choice of dress and the fact that he didn’t bring any kind of gift or condolence for his brother’s suffering, as much as the thought of leaving some half-witted gift for someone who couldn’t even appreciate it seemed like an empty gesture to him.

It was the flowers that filled him with a sickly sense of guilt. The thought of his mother crying over her first-born, stroking a gentle hand across his cheek and whispering prayers for the son who was never forgotten and always missed made his insides twist. Yes, Tsukishima had been abandoned by his mother for his kindly elder sibling and shunned when he followed in his footsteps, but wasn’t this for the best? Akiteru was a saint among men—never gave anyone a lick of trouble, always the first to care for others and open his heart. What had Tsukishima given anyone besides the cold shoulder?

(Only god knew where his father had gone off to, through all this, but it certainly wasn’t home to his grieving wife and child.)

The flowers were a reminder of all this, but Tsukishima couldn’t bring himself to lay the blame on his peaceful, innocent brother, whose every breath was a miracle. Tsukishima loved him far too much for that. It was a selfish and possessive love that drove a divide between him and his mother as they desperately clung to his memory, and Tsukishima, even now, believed he knew Akiteru better.

 _He’s perfectly healthy,_ the doctors had said. _Recovered from all his injuries and appears to be in very good condition for a comatose patient. But we can’t force him to come back to the real world. Sometimes the comatose just need to sleep._

 _My poor angel,_ Mari had wailed. _So close to recovery and yet…_

Tsukishima knew better.

For the same reason that he sat in Akiteru’s cold, inhuman room Not Looking at their mother’s flowers, for the same reason Akiteru hadn’t looked him in the eye and would come home less and less, for the same reason his voice cracked over the phone: Akiteru was weighed down with incredible guilt. How exactly would he tell his precious family that he had been lying for so long? That he wasn’t some grandiose warrior defending their homeland but a simple repairman, the lowest of the low? That despite all the goodness in Tsukishima Akiteru’s heart, his Drift compatibility was a numbingly low 17%?

In a sick way, Tsukishima thinks this coma might be exactly what Akiteru wanted. In his state of graceful rest, Akiteru does not have to face up to a disappointed mother and father or a shattered younger brother. Akiteru must have known how Tsukishima idolized him—he would never have lied to Tsukishima without good reason. It would have broken his tender heart to see Tsukishima’s heart break. So instead of facing his fears, Akiteru proved what a coward he truly was, existing in blissful limbo while his little brother’s world crumbles. It’s the first real, selfish thing Akiteru has done to Tsukishima.

But even knowing that, Tsukishima can’t accept it. He can’t accept that Akiteru would throw his life away to keep the status quo on his end. Tsukishima won’t—he _won’t_ —watch Akiteru fade away into nothing. The pallor of his skin and his too scrawny body lay wrapped in blankets, face covered by the feeding tube that forces life into his body. Tsukishima has seen it all before—many times before—on his anniversary (anniversary of what? The loss of a brother and a son? Why did they keep coming here, year after year?). He didn’t need to look at Akiteru or touch him to know that his brother was a slow dying organism, like the pretty flowers in their pretty vase, and soon enough he too would die and be swept out the door like his living beauty meant nothing.

So Tsukishima looks at the blank wall when he talks to Akiteru.

“You should have just told me,” he begins, the way he always does. “Wouldn’t my disappointment be better than the stasis you’re in? I would have forgiven you. We were always close. Either way, it’s been nine years. I don’t really care about promises or things that happened in the past.” A lie, but Tsukishima didn’t have it in his heart to yell at the weak man buried in sheets.

“It’s a good thing you didn’t end up as a pilot, anyway. I don’t think it’s the kind of thing empathetic people can handle, watching people die around you.” Tsukishima sucks in a breath. “Physically or metaphorically, at this point I don’t think it really matters. Nii-chan always worked so much harder than the rest, but this business isn’t for people like you.”

He scuffs at the floor. “Tadashi won’t talk to me, anymore.” There. He said it. The sentence hangs in the air, heavy, but at least it isn’t constricting in his chest anymore. To say that out loud means that he acknowledges the way Yamaguchi has kept up a weary façade of cheerfulness and fading grief—it’s to say that he notices, and it bothers him. Tsukishima has always hated admitting weakness. Any emotion, any sentiment can be turned on someone in a heartbeat. It’s better, Tsukishima has found, to keep his cards hidden under apathy and a mocking tongue. He’s fought to keep one foot above and ahead of everyone he’s ever known, humorously enough, given his height.

Akiteru would have called him a brat.

Tsukishima had made himself invincible after Akiteru died, burying the soul-deep hurt of the loss under that wall, all but erasing Akiteru from his public life. By keeping others at a distance, he was invulnerable, but there had always been one, after Akiteru. Yamaguchi had held his hand and told him it was okay to cry when he finally told him, clutching at the playground swing like a lifeline. Tsukishima hadn’t, obviously, and was generally mortified by the affectionate gesture, but Yamaguchi cried enough for the both of them.

Even when he only tolerated Yamaguchi’s presence out of respect for Akiteru’s wishes, it was easy for Tsukishima to let Yamaguchi ramble on to him about pointless topics, to invite him over, to expect him to follow when Tsukishima left a room. To call him ‘Tadashi’ like Akiteru had told him to. Yamaguchi had only befriended him because he was a bully deterrent, Tsukishima was sure, but he was also the easiest friend to have, never complaining about Tsukishima’s silence and talking over any awkward pause like it didn’t exist.

Did he think Tsukishima wouldn’t notice, after all their years together?

“He doesn’t talk like he used to,” Tsukishima admits, voice low and barely audible. “No extraneous nonsense, no stupid anecdotes—he speaks when spoken to and when it’s socially proper to make conversation. It’s…odd.”

He doesn’t miss it, not exactly. But the closed-off demeanor sets off alarm bells in Tsukishima’s head and makes his stomach churn. “I saw him fall apart, though he doesn’t know it. He acts like everything fine when I can clearly see his hands are shaking and he won’t _talk_ to me.”

His hands clench around the cold plastic of the seat. “The world is crumbling since Daichi-san died, and for the first time in my life…I don’t know what to do,” Tsukishima whispers. He finally, finally turns to look at Akiteru. “No matter what I do I can’t right this balance, and you aren’t _here to guide me anymore_.” He hisses the last part, throat tight. Tsukishima leans away from Akiteru, closing his eyes and taking a few steadying breaths.

When he opens them again, he reaches out a hand to touch Akiteru’s cheek. His skin is chilled, but underneath his blood pumps, warm and alive. Tsukishima doesn’t move his hand, but allows his warmth to spread to Akiteru, as if he could somehow convince his brother to come back. “I forgive you, nii-chan,” he murmurs. “You don’t need to protect me anymore, so you should just come back already. It’s not your place to lead your kid brother around anymore when he can make his own decisions.”

Tsukishima draws away. He’s said too much, as usual. There’s a spell Akiteru puts on him—like the urge to confess his secrets and leave a better person. But Tsukishima is nothing if not a bratty younger brother, and he leaves with more bitterness in his heart than he came in with and a hardened resolve.

_I said I’d protect you from now on, didn’t I? Do what you couldn’t, take your place—become a pilot and protect my family as a Jaeger pilot. I did it all for you, Akiteru. Rest easy and wake up soon._

 

\----------------

 

When Tsukishima makes it through the armed gates and just through the door to the base, he is cornered by a relieved looking Yamaguchi.

“Ah, Tsukki,” he says, shoulders slumping. “I was wondering when you’d get back. Saeko-san needs us to run some diagnostic tests with our Jaeger now that it’s been repaired—Kageyama and Hinata will be coming, too. It’s getting close to the time when Asahi had predicted the next kaiju would appear.”

‘When Asahi had predicted’ was becoming a more and more common phrase around the base, considering the fact that Asahi hadn’t produced concrete results in weeks. Grief and guilt were no doubt taking their toll on him—from what Tsukishima had heard, Asahi’s focus was scattered and his calculations, although when presented to the Marshal were accurate, took much longer to produce than ever before. Whether he messed up his calculus repeatedly or simply couldn’t bring himself to think about the kaiju, he was forgiven wordlessly by everyone on base for the change. After all, when Asahi wasn’t working in his lab, he could be found buzzing around the hospital ward, getting under everyone’s feet in a fruitless attempt to help Koushi’s condition improve. That was another one. Koushi’s ‘condition’. Euphemisms were suddenly a lot more popular, nowadays.

“…Are you alright? It can’t be easy, seeing him.” Tsukishima’s head snaps up to look at Yamaguchi with a look nearing shock. The sympathetic smile soft on his face, understanding reflected in his eyes—this was the closest to seeing the ‘Tadashi’ he knew in weeks. But the smile is flimsy and Yamaguchi’s eyes are dulled, and to Tsukishima he seems less like his friend and partner and more like a ghost masquerading as such. It gives him chills.

“Fine,” Tsukishima replies tersely, striding past Yamaguchi and heading for the Shatterdome. Yamaguchi follows after a moment. They do not touch. In the corner of his eye, Tsukishima can see the bags under Yamaguchi’s eyes, yawning and dark like caverns threatening to swallow the last bit of life from his body. He looks straight ahead without any of the nervous, fidgeting glances that were so characteristic, blankly nodding at anyone whose eyes he meets by accident. Any attempt at bubbliness is stunted and dull compared to the brightness Yamaguchi usually spreads with his words and movements. The pride in his stance has left as well—leaving him to slouch and slow his pace.

Tsukishima doesn’t mean to match him—he usually would have kept on going and left Yamaguchi to run and catch _him_ —but it’s not even a conscious decision. He wants to evaluate Yamaguchi’s health further, but what good would that do? Obviously his partner still grieved, still couldn’t sleep, still fought to keep things as normal as possible. There was nothing he could do to ameliorate this issue, nor did he have the time or energy to consult a doctor on base about it.

He clicks his tongue, irritated. If Yamaguchi started getting really sick…yes, then he would act. As of now, it was still perfectly normal to be grieving. At least Yamaguchi could get up every morning and function. He was trying to get better.

_(So why was Tsukishima so hyper aware of him? Why did he feel a sinking in his gut, a millstone settling in like dread, stiffening his posture and setting him on edge? He doesn’t think too hard about it for fear of what he might find.)_

They are the last to arrive for the tests—so late, in fact, that Kageyama and Hinata are already climbing into Tyrant Omega’s Conn-Pod, dressed in their suits and everything. Saeko barks at them, but the usual bite is softened at their haggard appearances. She cuffs them across their heads and hurries them to the Drivesuit Room before turning on her heel and stomping back to Mission Control. The two dress as wordlessly as they walked to the Shatterdome. Yamaguchi takes the lead onto the catwalk to their Jaeger, and Tsukishima feels a strange fluttering in his chest. He stumbles a little, gracelessly, but pulls himself together and tries very hard not to look at the empty chasm across from them where Apocalypto Alpha used to stand.

Saeko doesn’t order a drop at first—she wants to take everything slow and be as thorough as possible. The next time they face the kaiju, there will be no doubt that the Jaegers will perform at full capacity. It’s all that she, as chief Drift technician, can do in the wake of the base’s tragedy. Tsukishima settles back into Gold Strike’s Conn-Pod with all the ease of a rabbit in a lion’s den. He’s resigned to the fact that this is going to be a miserable diagnostic, but on the plus side, Yamaguchi might loosen up when their minds connect and just maybe, he might let Tsukishima back in.

At one point in their training as cadets, Koushi had tried to change the way they Drifted. Already, Koushi had been apprehensive of their mutual rejection of the Ghost Drift, believing it to be an essential element of piloting, but it was their style of Drifting that really threw him. If there was a way to Drift without ever invading your partner’s mind, Tsukishima and Yamaguchi had perfected it. They never looked at each other’s memories—partially because they had been childhood friends and so shared most of them, and partially out of convoluted respect (Yamaguchi) and a persistent desire to never open up (Tsukishima).

Where Hinata was a wash of fire and pure energy tempered by Kageyama’s control and experience, Tsukishima was a tidal wave of icy water tempered by Yamaguchi’s firm resistance to the pull of Tsukishima’s mind. When they first make contact, it is Tsukishima who overpowers Yamaguchi, leaving him floundering and gasping at the cold, but he’s strong enough and familiar enough to Tsukishima to clench his teeth and hold strong until he’s warm again. The unbalance made Koushi uneasy. He wanted them to both give and take, but there was something between the two, something fundamentally unhinged that prevented them from changing. It was just the slightest catch in the whirring cogs of their effective team, but it never truly tampered with their Drifting until Daichi died.

Tsukishima does not sense anything wrong as he joins with Yamaguchi, flying from the in-between and across the bridge to unite their minds, bypassing memories and emotions like they were peeling advertisements on the sides of buildings. He does not sense anything wrong when he rushes in and around Yamaguchi’s consciousness, halting only at the cold, metallic feeling of their Jaeger. He does, however, sense something wrong when Yamaguchi’s forced resistance gives way to a small but growing panic.

Tsukishima feels it then—low in his gut as much as his Drift partner’s—the sensation of being overwhelmed by another’s consciousness. Yamaguchi flails weakly and pushes at Tsukishima’s mind, trying to dig out a space for himself in their communal headspace, but fails, panic rising. It feels like he’s being battered by waves, paddling desperately to the surface of the water but unable to suck in a life-giving breath—

_He was so scared, he was so afraid to die, I felt it, I felt him die, he **drowned** , Asahi!_

_I felt his panic and his terror as his body **fought to breathe!**_

The panic and fear are real and instant. Tsukishima yanks himself out of the Drift so fast his head spins and he can’t see straight. His breath comes out in impossibly short and fast gasps as he fumbles weakly for the emergency release of his drivesuit. He paws at the lever until on his fifth try it activates, freeing him from the command platform. Tsukishima takes a single desperate step and plunges forward, colliding painfully with the wall of the Conn-Pod. Behind him, he can hear the stuttered, almost sobbing breaths of his co-pilot, and that is enough to drive Tsukishima to stumble-run out of the Conn-Pod, snarling and shoving at the techs who run to his aid.

(Out the corner of his eye he sees Tyrant Omega, steadily humming as Kageyama and Hinata order it to raise its arms and perform all the functions with the ease of two pilots who haven’t had the ground snatched from beneath their feet. Under all his blind terror, hate drips inky black into Tsukishima’s heart at their cohesiveness.)

He tears off his drivesuit with the single-mindedness of an animal trying to escape from a cage. Pieces are thrown to the ground carelessly, helmet discarded somewhere under a bench, and when the suit is finally removed from his body, Tsukishima leaps to the other side of the room, regarding it warily as he takes deep, steadying breaths in order to clear his foggy mind. Clarity returns less than ten minutes later and feels foolish for his outburst, cleaning up the parts of his drivesuit when Yamaguchi walks in the their Drivesuit Room.

“Tsukki…?” His voice is as hesitant and delicate as Tsukishima remembers, and because of that, he cannot bring himself to look at Yamaguchi. The weight of what he did to his oldest and closest friend settles heavy in him, and he grits his teeth.

“I’m done for today,” he says, rougher than intended. His voice leaves no room for argument, yet Saeko’s incredulous voice sounds over the speaker, contradicting him.

 **Tsukishima-kun,** she growls, **I understand getting back into the swing of Drifting can be rough, but we _need_ to run these diagnostics today. We’re overdue for a kaiju and this base can hardly function with two rookie teams, let alone one, so Gold Strike _must_ be ready for action. You need to get back in the Jaeger.**

“I’m done,” Tsukishima repeats, steel in his voice.

 **This is a direct order,** Saeko counters, just as steely as he.

Tsukishima laughs, a single bark of disbelief and rebellion. “And if I don’t obey that direct order? What are you going to do? Feed me to the kaiju? In that case it’s really no different from piloting, huh.”

He doesn’t wait to hear her response, snatching his jacket and stalking out of the room, fighting down that rising feeling of _something_ in his chest that closes his throat and turns his limbs stiff. In his hurry, he misses the soft apology to Saeko from Yamaguchi, who follows him out, staying several meters back.

 

\--------------------

 

Much like Tsukishima and Yamaguchi, Kageyama and Hinata change in silence.

It’s easy for Hinata to undress and focus on the rest of his day when his back is turned to Kageyama. The techs strip him of his drivesuit and he nods to acknowledge them, padding silently to his locker to get the rest of his clothes. Kageyama follows him, but not too close—Hinata knows where Kageyama is relative to him instinctually, even without the Ghost Drift. He fishes through the locker mindlessly, pulling on his clothes and accidentally brushing against Kageyama. There’s no flinch of revulsion or hurt, nor the burning sense of connection between them. It’s just empty touch.

Hinata slams his locker closed with more force than necessary.

They leave together, Hinata waiting on Kageyama in the hallway, arms crossed. Kageyama calls Hinata to him with a nod. “What’s the plan for today?” Hinata asks, voice near flat.

“From our readings, we don’t need to go to the Kwoon Room, seeing as we still Drift…well enough…together. I’m probably going to hit the gym or run, so maybe you could drop by Noya’s? He and Asahi could use company.”

“Hmm.” Hinata thinks it over. “Actually, I think Tanaka could use an extra hand in the Shatterdome, and I’d rather put effort into mindless working than conversation.” Kageyama accepts this with another nod, and they fall into stiff silence.

This is how they function now—organizing their schedules to spend as little time as possible together without jeopardizing the unity of their Drift. If Kageyama works out, Hinata socializes. If Hinata works out, Kageyama retreats to their room or spars with Kindaichi and Kunimi. When they do cross paths, they treat each other with the dry formality of professionalism. They may be Drift partners and co-pilots, but the ease of their relationship and any hope of saving their closeness had to be sacrificed to maintain that ability to Drift without recoiling from each other. And without the Ghost Drift, anything other than factual information became impossible for them to convey to each other.

(And for what? So that they would still be the rising stars of the base, the pilots with the incredible synchronicity? Well that was out the window too—as of today, their hyper-connection had broken down to normal levels of synchronization.)

This was a colorless and bleak future to Hinata, but he was also too deeply entwined in the life of the Jaeger pilot to free himself and seek out something brighter. He takes his resignation in stride, anyway. If there’s one thing Hinata is good at, it’s never faltering or giving up, always pushing forward with full belief in himself and the faintest hope that things might get better for others in his life, too.

Tsukishima and Yamaguchi’s appearance is both unexpected and unwelcome.

Kageyama manages to rouse a little suspicion into his gaze and posture, tentatively defensive. Hinata and Yamaguchi share mutual looks of mild surprise and discomfort, although Hinata’s is shrouded with a soft ache in his heart at the exhaustion and hopelessness Yamaguchi embodies. Tsukishima is the only one able to keep up appearances, sneering and shoving his hands into his jacket pockets.

“Oh my, look who it is. The ‘wonder duo’ and their flawless Drifting. Must feel pretty good to be on top now that the Alpha isn’t around to steal the spotlight from the Omega.” Under normal circumstances, the two might have bristled in fury at the remarks, defended their respect for the ex-main team, but as it stands, Tsukishima is so completely wrong and out of his depth that Kageyama can’t even manage to raise an eyebrow.

 _He doesn’t know about our sync scores,_ Hinata realizes. And then, _he’s bitter that we can still Drift, after what happened to them this morning._

Hinata makes a thoughtful noise. “Oh, speaking of, what exactly happened to you two this morning during diagnostics? Saeko-neechan was furious and said that you quit.”

He doesn’t expect the ice in Tsukishima’s eyes, the way his jaw snaps shut, and his posture becomes instantly defensive. It’s very open and uncharacteristic of Tsukishima to reveal his feelings either through words or body language, and Hinata is taken aback. Whatever happened must have been seriously scarring.

“It’s obvious that we would have difficulty Drifting after what we’ve seen,” he snaps. “Jumping right back into it is the opposite of a healthy choice, and Saeko-san should have realized that.”

“Nevertheless,” Hinata argues, “we can’t afford to be complacent with this peace—another double event could happen any day now.”

The color drains from Tsukishima’s face and he swallows thickly, prompting Yamaguchi to jump in, eyes glowing hot with anger and disbelief. “You shouldn’t speak so lightly of that,” he growls. “This isn’t a joke, Hinata.”

But they both know that he’s not joking. There’s a seriousness that has come over the idiot couple, aging them far past their twenties. It’s a wisdom that they had to pay a hefty price for, but it’s apparent in their unsmiling expressions and Hinata’s solid, mature voice that they too have seen terrible things. Yamaguchi reins in his emotions and leans back, unsettled.

“He knows that,” Kageyama defends quietly. “We saw Suga-san’s meltdown too, you know.”

Mentioning Koushi’s name snaps Tsukishima out of his panicked trance. “Yet, even after weeks of not speaking or looking at each other, suddenly you’re both friends again. And you can Drift, too. I wonder why that is? Sounds to me like you weren’t affected that much after all.” Yamaguchi gasps in shock for all of them.

Hinata is undeterred. “It’s what Suga-san and Daichi-san would have wanted,” he says softly. “I want to honor their last wishes, and I’m sure Kageyama does too.”

Tsukishima raises an eyebrow. “That so? Somehow, I don’t think I can believe you. After all that king put you through—the lies, the withholding, the rejection—you’re just going to let him off the hook? I never thought I’d see the day Hinata Shouyou became just another pawn in the hands of that tyrant.”

Kageyama is too mute with horror to respond, mouth opening and closing helplessly, while Hinata freezes, his entire body going stiff. He doesn’t know if it’s with shock or anger or fear—perhaps all three.

“How _dare_ you.”

The three whip around to see Yamaguchi, shaking with fists clenched, curling his lip at Tsukishima. There’s a fury and a restlessness pent up underneath his skin that Tsukishima hadn’t noticed before, showing through now and directed, in full, at him. “Just knock it off, Tsukki! After all we’ve been through…” Yamaguchi rasps. He shakes his head rapidly.

Turning to Kageyama and Hinata instead, he bows deeply. “I am truly sorry for what he has said to you, and I can assure you that you have done nothing to prompt this aggression. I hope you will forgive him.” With that, Yamaguchi latched onto Tsukishima with a vice-like grip, pulling him away without another word from either of them, leaving the other two pilots to watch in confusion and shock.

 

\-----------------------

 

Yamaguchi waits until they safely tucked into their quarters, locking the door behind him, before flipping on Tsukishima.

“What has gotten into you today? I know the diagnostics didn’t go well, but that is no excuse to take out your frustration on Hinata and Kageyama! You crossed a line, Tsukki, and I think…”

His voice trails off in Tsukishima’s distant mind. Honestly, he should be paying more attention. Yamaguchi had never chewed him out over anything, whether it was out of fear of losing Tsukishima’s friendship or some other mysterious reason, so for him finally to cave now should have been an experience Tsukishima would file away—not to use against him, but to keep in mind in order to make Yamaguchi happier. A break like this in Yamaguchi’s consistent personality of timidity doubtlessly indicated something serious was bothering him, and as Yamaguchi’s friend and partner, Tsukishima was obligated to at least understand what is was (whether he chose to ameliorate the situation or let it lie was up to him).

But something else is eating at him. For all the halting anger and disbelief in Yamaguchi’s voice, he looks decidedly distressed rather than furious. There’s the usual ache of exhaustion coloring his face ashen, but he looks especially drained as he barks at Tsukishima, as if his spirit was slipping away with each puff of air. His fists clench, digging little half-moons in his palms to match the white press of knuckle-bone against his skin. He trembles but does not shake. And his eyebrows pull together to create a mournful, pitiful expression that makes Tsukishima’s hackles rise in apprehension. Having these emotions directed at him was both uncomfortable and unnatural.

“…Can’t you cut them a break? God knows they’re trying just as hard as we are to get back to normal again. I heard from Michimiya-san that their sync scores have scattered, you know. They’re still suffering just like you and I are, so picking on them is…”

Ah, but Yamaguchi would know a lot about that, wouldn’t he? The struggle of the weak and untalented. After all, he himself had been in the lower 50% as far as sync scores and physical training went. He didn’t coast through like Tsukishima did, but had to fight tooth and nail to even be considered. Tsukishima remembers the long nights with a cold bunk above him, the even colder feeling of the metal grated floor of the base as he padded out of their quarters, and coldest drip of _something_ down his sternum when he peeked through the door to the simulator room to see Yamaguchi on his hands and knees—shaking this time—and tears splattering on the floor when he’d failed the mission yet again. Tsukishima remembers the yawn of the instructor monitoring Yamaguchi’s extra training, although he does not remember their face.

 _Fair enough_ , Tsukishima thinks. They probably didn’t remember Yamaguchi’s either—just another high school dropout desperately trying to prove that he was worth more than his past, prove that he had a future worth living in.

Those long hallways had been Tsukishima’s companions as much as they were Yamaguchi’s tormentors, pressing down on him with the weight of impossible challenge and expectations, while Tsukishima walked light as a cat, the metal walls practically pulling away to let him through. Yamaguchi had surely suffocated in the length of Tsukishima’s shadow, while he turned his face away from the praising light of both cadets and instructors alike.

_Yamaguchi never frowned though, not when it counted. He dug his heels in and fought to stay at Tsukishima’s side. Weary and bloody from clawing his way to the top, he stood next to Tsukishima, shoulders slumped from the weight of the taunts, the exhaustion, the struggle. And he smiled._

“…-ard to lose that Drift compatibility. Theirs was unseen before in any other pair, and now they’re just normal like the rest of us. Don’t you think that…”

Normal? The rest of us? Why, it appeared as if Yamaguchi had forgotten that there was nothing even remotely normal about their own method of Drifting. Practically asphyxiating your partner while trying to connect with them, that was normal, right? Tsukishima beats down the panic and bile rising in his chest. It’s not like they had a lot of choice, anyway.

Tsukishima, as far ahead as he was from even the best of the cadets, had one glaring, nasty flaw—his resistance to Drifting. Although his sync score was a whopping 94%, he battered his Drift partners into backing out. The root of the problem laid in his inability to trust others with his self. Tsukishima didn’t want a stranger sifting through his thoughts, seeing who he had been and why he had become something frighteningly different. He didn’t want them to pity him, pity _Akiteru_ , to commiserate with him, to say _I’m sorry_ …

He drove them out. The pressure and strength of his mind was unprecedentedly tough, calloused with his history of loss and resistant to being overtaken or slipping into chasing the R.A.B.I.T, making him a coveted candidate for a pilot. But with that same power came the ability to brush away the weaker minds with a flick of his thoughts, sending a tidal wave crashing around them, pushing them away and forcing them to drop the Drift. Yamaguchi was no different. As close friends as they were, Tsukishima still didn’t want Yamaguchi near that inner sanctum. (Didn’t want to lose the imbalance of power between them.)

Yamaguchi had been such a stretch; one last, frustrated chance to pair up Tsukishima before he was booted out to a different base—maybe one in America, where he might be caught off guard and overpowered himself—and a last chance for Yamaguchi, the recklessly hopeful cadet who wanted nothing more than to stand on equal ground with his best friend. In the end it had come down to that, hadn’t it? Tsukishima’s stubborn will to maintain the status quo at all costs meets Yamaguchi’s stubborn desire to be recognized.

Their connection was forged by neither fire nor ice but the rushing sound of the ocean in a conch shell, Tsukishima’s presence pounding in and around Yamaguchi’s head, ferocious as ever. But Yamaguchi didn’t try to surface, like the others. He allowed Tsukishima to toss him about like a ragdoll in his own mind until he gathered his bearings, opened his eyes, and began to breathe in the arctic water. Yamaguchi could resist Tsukishima because he did not resist—he trusted their friendship and trusted the goodness in Tsukishima’s heart that he would not hurt him.

And in that moment of acceptance, Tsukishima felt neither fear nor discomfort as their memories overlapped and rippled between their minds. His snuffed-out emotions, held so closely to his breast, were released from the talon-like hold of his mind, floating to and past his friend as easily as a slow-moving current of water. They acknowledged each other with the all the ease of letting go. Tsukishima saw it with completely clarity—the moment Yamaguchi smiled at him, lit up like dappled sunlight through water. The moment Yamaguchi truly became ‘Tadashi’ in his mind.

Their method of Drifting was neither conventional nor strictly acceptable, but the higher-ups had let it slide when their sync scores soared. They weren’t “normal”, like Daichi and Koushi had been. They were just as fucked-up as Kageyama and Hinata, they just hid it better. A fact Yamaguchi seemed to be conveniently ignoring, even after the disaster of a diagnostic they had gone through that very morning.

“I know it never mattered to you, but the Ghost Drift was something important to them…well, important to Hinata at least, and they both know what it did to Suga-san, so I don’t know why you would…”

Ha! The Ghost Drift was of no concern to Tsukishima. There was a reason he had point-blank refused to even try it, even underlying his desire to keep his inner thoughts and feelings safely locked away. Everyone who had a brain screwed onto their shoulders in the kaiju defense business knew what happened to pilots that Ghost Drifted. It was like a drug—it got its users so high and blinded with all the wonder of personal connection only to rob them of so much more when they came crashing down and their partner was ripped from them. How many, exactly, were able to pilot a Jaeger again after losing their co-pilot? An incredible grand total of zero.

Tsukishima wasn’t stupid. He wasn’t going to fall for all the bells and whistles and magic of knowing his partner inside out, even if Yamaguchi’s eyes sparkled when their mentors had spoken of it, once.

“Yeah! And it’s really convenient, y’know? One time I saw this really neat bird of prey from the outlook and Akaashi was able to hear me from all the way across—”

“We’re not using the Ghost Drift,” Tsukishima had cut Bokuto off mid-sentence, disturbed by how invested Yamaguchi appeared to be in Bokuto's tales of all the ‘cool’ things he’d been able to do with Akaashi through the Ghost Drift. Yamaguchi’s look of confusion and slight hurt when he turned to face Tsukishima confirmed his suspicions. “Sorry, it’s not really for us.”

Bokuto scoffed. “And why the hell not? You’re close, ain’t ya? It’s more than just useful in synchronizing; it’s really nice to have someone who understands you as well as you understand yourself.” He raised an eyebrow at Tsukishima, and at his side, Yamaguchi chewed at his bottom lip, clearly trying to compose the words to get Tsukishima to change his mind.

“We’re not required to Ghost Drift, I don’t see why this is a problem,” Tsukishima muttered, evasive. He refused to look in Akaashi's direction, already knowing the look that he would find there. Thoughtful, concerned—a blank slate of an expression contrasted against sharp, discerning eyes. Akaashi had this way of understanding Tsukishima even in his most ambiguous moments, when he wavered and refused to show his cards. Akaashi read him like a book within moments of lighting eyes on him—it was creepy, and it made Tsukishima’s hackles rise. Akaashi had made a name for themself with their intelligence and strategic thinking, but Tsukishima preferred they keep that focus directed elsewhere.

Akaashi parted their lips to speak, but then stopped, tilting their head like an animal’s in the direction of an adjacent hallway. “The Marshal is coming,” they declared softly, turning fully to face the hallway. Sure enough, Marshal Ukai plodded around the corner and approached their group with an air of staunch professionalism that prompted the four pilots to stand to attention, shoulders thrown back.

“At ease,” Ukai said, eyeing up Tsukishima. “So you lot are talking up the Ghost Drift, huh? Not interested, is that right, Tsukishima?” His expression was infuriatingly neutral. Tsukishima ground his teeth in frustration and decided that he’d best go with the truth.

“No, sir. I have no intention of Ghost Drifting.”

The Marshal hummed thoughtfully. “I suppose you have your reasons. But you wouldn’t—even if it were an order from the rest of your team, or another military official?”

Tsukishima knew what he was implying. He was being tested on the strength of his conviction towards this one particular subject, but he hadn’t the faintest idea _why_. Even Bokuto's usually so carefree expression had shifted into something solemn and unreadable. Faced with four pairs of burning eyes, Tsukishima had no choice but to curl his lip and dig his nails into his palms.

“Despite all the benefits that can be reaped from a psychic connection like that,” Tsukishima began, dangerous and soft, “the potential dangers far outweigh the gains. As you’re all familiar with, pilots separated from their partners with a strong Ghost Drift have a history of going mad and trying to hurt themselves or others. Those who were once lauded as heroes are now feared and institutionalized. More importantly, they become useless in piloting Jaegers. Useless for anything, really, other than taking up space in the hospital and crushing the dreams of children.” _And I can’t afford to let myself become that. If I fall, then Akiteru—_

“So if you’re asking me, sir, what would happen if you asked me to Ghost Drift, I would have to tell you—with all due respect—you’ll need to find yourself a new pilot.” Tsukishima’s voice was as cold and cutting as the winter winds, unflinching even as he spoke to a superior. This was one thing he would not budge on.

Ukai whistled, low. He turned to Yamaguchi. “And you, Yamaguchi? You will accept this ultimatum without question?” Tsukishima did not allow himself to look away from Yamaguchi as his face fell, the curiosity in his eyes flickering out like a snuffed candle. He wasn’t able to meet either of their eyes. _Remember this. Remember his suffering and learn._

“Tsukki never makes absolutes without a reason,” Yamaguchi murmured. “If this is something he believes will be for the better of our duo, I will follow his lead.” He scuffed a foot, the unspoken, _even if I don’t like it_ hanging in the air.

Bokuto finally broke his self-imposed silence. “But that’s not what happens most of the time! Sure, there are risks involved—but those risks aren’t much more than those involved in piloting a Jaeger. If you’re gonna risks your lives, might as well make your lives brighter while they last.”

“No, no,” The Marshal broke in. “Tsukishima makes a good point. Too many fine soldiers have been lost because they were incapacitated after losing their partners. Those too have a strong enough Drift—they don’t need the help. And we need pilots that can survive without each other. That’s why we’re commissioning a Jaeger for them effective immediately.”

Yamaguchi’s jaw visibly dropped.

_So what is it, Tadashi? What is it that’s eating at you? Is it the failure of their effort that has you wound up? The dissolution of their Drift compatibility? The fact that I was right on that day to refuse the psychic connection you held up as an ideal? What have I done to shatter that illusion that has been holding you together since Daichi-san died?_

_…Ah. Well, perhaps it’s much simpler than all that._

“This is because I called him ‘king of the base,’ isn’t it, Tadashi?” Tsukishima words the statement as a question.

“I—” Yamaguchi stutters, caught. He looks at Tsukishima like a deer caught in the headlights, seen through as easily as if he had been completely transparent.

_“How **dare** you.”_

_“After all we’ve been through…!”_

Yamaguchi visibly deflates, and for the second time in his life, Tsukishima feels bad about winning an argument. The taste of victory is sour on his tongue, cloying and wrong, making him want to gag. The shadows return to Yamaguchi’s features, sucking the fire from his words and his eyes and hollowing him completely. It must have taken all of his courage to yell at Tsukishima like that.

“Just…” his voice is small, soft, imploring. “Just please, _please_ try and get along with Kageyama and Hinata, okay? Daichi-san and Suga-san are _gone_. They’re all we have left now. Even if you don’t like them, we need them, Tsukki. We had such a good thing, the three teams together…”

 _Please don’t push them away. We can’t survive on our own again._ That’s what he’s really saying.

Please don’t take me back to the time when we were shunned by the other cadets. When only hostile glares greeted us when we entered a room. When excelling only meant that you were resented faster and fiercer. We were Kageyama, too, once. We know what it’s like to be mocked and tormented, to be called by _that_ name.

**_The master and his dog._ **

_“That Tsukishima guy’s a real jerk, huh? The way he bullies that kid into being his slave.”_

_“Pffft, what are you talking about? The guy gets off on obeying orders, all ‘yes, Tsukki!’ this and ‘of course, Tsukki!’ that.”_

_“Man, wish I had a dog like that. I could use an errand boy.”_

_“Lucky bastard. But hey, if the owner has broken in his pet, then taking it from him shouldn’t be too difficult, right? I’m sure he’d pee his pants if he was left without **master** to guard him.”_

_Frighteningly loud laughter and malicious words scraped at Yamaguchi’s ears, forcing him quivering even further into Tsukishima’s shadow. The threats hung heavy over his head and chased away the hope for sleep, leaving him weary and shattered through the ruthless training. But no one ever walked the walk, most likely because Tsukishima’s eyes dripped molten fire and danger, a **real** threat behind each hostile gaze thrown at their attackers._

_Until he left just that one moment, those few precious minutes to duck back into their quarters, leaving Yamaguchi unprotected for not even five minutes…_

_Tsukishima doesn’t really remember if they laid a hand on him or not. Yamaguchi does. He remembers rough fingers tangled in the back of his uniform, a strangled wail of desperation, and then—and then a tiger, carried by the wind and strengthened by fire, tearing through the circle of tormentors._

_He remembers each snap and crack of bone, the curses deteriorating into shouts and gasps and sobs because Tsukishima was **not** all talk, he was all bite, and he held the title of best close-combat fighter for a reason. Yamaguchi remembers monstrous men that surrounded him and weeping children that fell at Tsukishima’s hands, bloodied so many shades of red and brown that Yamaguchi couldn’t even tell how many he’d taken down._

_But most importantly, he remembers Tsukishima’s face—the emptiness there, devoid of regret or triumph or disgust. He was only blank, only tired, and when he turned on his heel to request a relocation of quarters, Yamaguchi walked at his side._

Theirs was a hard-fought peace. They had dragged themselves inch after bloody inch towards their desires, and now Yamaguchi wanted him to play nice, act the peacekeeper and let Kageyama and Hinata get away with paying nothing to achieve the status they had _bled_ for.

_I hate guys who think enthusiasm and hard work alone will get them where they want to go._

A smiling boy, weightless underwater, looking at him and being seen in return, for the first time.

_You’re a fucking hypocrite, Tsukishima Kei._

“I don’t even recognize you anymore,” Tsukishima whispers, and Yamaguchi freezes, eyes wide. His words hang over their heads like a noose, just waiting to drop around their necks and choke them. So many thoughts and reactions flicker across Yamaguchi’s face as he scrabbles for a response, but Tsukishima is done. He doesn’t want to look at this stranger a moment longer.

“Marshal Ukai said there’s a new team coming in today from Tokyo to replace Apocalypto Alpha,” he states, flat and chilling. “You best get ready.”

When Tsukishima turns and walks out their door, he doesn’t tell Yamaguchi to follow him. He doesn’t even look back.

And for the first time in his life, Yamaguchi hesitates and does not follow.

 

\-------------------

 

“Shit.”

The hiss of steam and deep, guttural rumbling of machinery conceal Hinata’s desperate whisper. It’s hot, this far into the bowels of the base, no signs to point him in the right direction. Boilers and pipes snake around the walls to distant destinations, a forest of rusting metal and shimmering heat. Hinata has already shed his jacket, but he pulls at the collar of his training shirt, wiping at the sweat beading on his upper lip. His internal compass has always been faulty, but in the aftermath of their confrontation with Tsukishima and Yamaguchi, he had forgotten about this fact and allowed his feet to carry him down into an unknown part of the base. This was the territory of mechanics and techs—not young Jaeger pilots already running late for an important meeting. Forget helping out Tanaka; Hinata has Marshal-mandated time and place to be at, and it isn’t wandering around the boilers for a few hours.

Hinata’s shoulders slump. He’s lost.

He hasn’t seen another person for quite a while, either. He hoped maybe Tanaka would come to his rescue, but after tens of twists and turns, he figured that there will be no chance encounters. Hinata’s mind drifts towards the unthinkable: getting lost for days, no one knowing where he was, having to survive off the steam and rats that he was sure lived down here. His clothes would turn to rags and then when eventually he was recovered from the pits of the base, he would have reverted back to his animal state, no longer viable as a pilot but sent to a mental institution to be reintroduced to society.

Well, Hinata could always reach out, maybe it was still—no. No, fuck _that_ , he wasn’t going to lean on Kageyama any longer. If he got out of this mess it would be without the help of his “partner”. Hinata stomps around the corner, temper flaring slightly, and then jolts in alarm when he sees someone sitting on the edge of a concrete slab, hunched over and attention focused on something in their lap. Hinata’s shoulders slump again, but this time, with relief.

“Excuse me?” he calls out tentatively.

The person in question nearly jumps a foot in the air, head whipping around to face him. Hinata finds himself pinned under golden cat’s eyes, pupils only tiny dots swimming in irises bright enough to spot all the way across the hallway. They’re scrutinizing and almost threatening in their intensity—Hinata feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. But almost immediately, the gaze softens to a dull acknowledgement accompanied by the slight tilt of this person’s head.

Hinata swallows. The stranger’s attention is still on him, and Hinata attempts to determine his position from dyed blond hair carelessly growing out contrasted against the clean and sharp red of his uniform. There was a name on the jacket, but he couldn’t make it out. “U-um. I’m a little lost, do you have any idea how to get to the Shatterdome from here?”

Their gaze shifts to the side, avoiding eye contact now that Hinata had been deemed ‘not a threat’. “…I got lost too,” they murmur, lips barely moving.

All of Hinata’s hope and relief collapses around him in an instant. “Aw man, are you serious? This sucks!” he walks over to the stranger, flopping down on the concrete slab next to them, oblivious to their discomfort and subtle way they shift away from him. Hinata, ever the social type, peeks at his unwilling companion. “Say, I haven’t seen that uniform around before…”

No reply.

Hinata pouts. “Well, do you work around here?”

With great stiffness, the stranger replies. “I’m new here.”

“Ah, so that’s how you got lost.” A nod. “I won’t lie; the base can be pretty difficult to navigate, even for an expert like me!” Another nod. “Still, it’s a pretty cool place. How’re you liking it so far?” A shrug of the shoulders.

Hinata purses his lips. They weren’t very friendly, whoever they were, keeping to their little bubble, bangs hanging in their face. Even he could tell his presence wasn’t wanted, from the _lively_ conversation and the stranger’s body language. And yet…to Hinata, they seemed to have an air of loneliness and discomfort unrelated to him. It must be scary—working in such an intimidatingly large place. Anyone was bound to feel scared and lonely, defensive. Maybe that’s what this person was feeling and maybe not, but Hinata never left anything up to chance.

“Your uniform is really cool,” he says, sitting up. “And you have to be a pretty cool person to qualify to work here.” That gets their attention. They peek at Hinata out from under their bangs fleetingly, before looking away again. Hinata takes this as progress and smiles. “What do you as a job?”

His companion fiddles with a strand of hair, pausing before answering. “I work with Jaegers…I guess.”

Hinata gasps. “Woah, really? Then we might be seeing more of each other soon enough! I’m a pilot, you know.” He can’t hide the little puff of pride that seeps into his voice and his cheeks go pink. “Er, not to brag or anything.”

The stranger’s lips quirk into an almost smile and they relax a little, still not looking at Hinata, but appearing to be more open to conversation. “Where’re you from?” Hinata prompts.

“Tokyo,” they reply. “Just got here, actually.”

Hinata beams. “If we weren’t lost already, I’d have loved to give you the grand tour. But being new, I guess you haven’t met many people, anyway. It could be a little overwhelming on your own.”

They shake their head. “Not really. I’ve gotten used to it. The anonymity is nice, but the noise can be annoying.”

“Oh, so you’ve been on a base before? Tokyo, I’d imagine, and I’m sure that’s way louder than here. More exciting, too. Wah, I really wanna go sometime! Make a name for myself, y’know?”

“You’ll have to find your way out of here first, though.”

The stranger seems as embarrassed by their teasing as Hinata is elated. They try to duck away, but Hinata hops up and flings himself in front of them. Extending a hand, he introduces himself. “I’m Hinata Shouyou.”

Their eyes flicker from Hinata’s hand to his face, back to his hand before they cough lightly and tentatively reach out to shake it. “Kozume Kenma.”

“Well, Kozume—”

“Ah, just Kenma is fine.” Hinata blinks at them in surprise. Kenma finally looks at him directly. “I don’t really care for all those honorifics and unnecessary flaunting of titles. If it doesn’t bother you, you can call me Kenma.”

“Then call me Shouyou.” Hinata smiles. “After all, we’re friends, right?”

“F-friends…” Kenma looks away again, but doesn’t flinch when Hinata sits beside them again, close enough that their arms brush. Hinata bombards Kenma with questions about life in Tokyo (crowded and loud), his likes and dislikes (sleeping and apple pie; uncomfortable weather and waking up early), what he was fiddling around with in his lap (Gameboy), and if he liked his job (someone had to do it).

Hinata’s mouth makes an ‘O’ shape as he remembers what he wanted to ask. “Kenma! I meant to ask you, but do you have any other friends here? If not, I can introduce you to someone I know in basically any position here!”

Kenma blinks thoughtfully. “Actually—”

“My, my…looks like you didn’t really need to be rescued after all, Kenma.”

A shadow peels itself from around the corner, slinking towards the two with all the grace of running water and the restrained power of a hurricane. The shadow’s steps are light, but with every inch he gains on them, Hinata feels an unbearable pressure in the back of his head, a roaring in his ears. The shadow takes the shape of a man, shoulders hunched and hands stuffed in his pockets, body language languid and open.

Hinata is terrified.

Where Kenma's presence was carefully concealed to the point where Hinata could easily forget its intensity, this new person had his on display for the whole world to see. Each breath declared him dangerous, each twitch of his expression a threat. And his gaze was fixed right on Hinata.

“Who’s this cute little shrimp? Not giving you trouble, I hope,” he leers at Hinata, teeth bared. Hinata has no idea what he did that was so bad to earn himself the full scrutiny of this predator, but he’s about to get on his hands and knees and beg forgiveness. His mouth flaps open and closed uselessly before Kenma saves him.

“Lay off him, Kuro. He’s a friend.” Kenma looks at ‘Kuro’ pointedly, but there’s a lightness to their tone and expression that betrays their emotions. They’re pleased to see this mysterious and threatening man. ‘Kuro’ gets in their space, easy as breathing, and Kenma accepts it without even blinking. A quick look over Kenma causes his aura to tone down a little, but then he moves on to Hinata, eyes roaming up and down his body conspicuously enough to make Hinata flush to his roots.

“Wh-wh—”

“Kuroo Tetsurou,” he interrupts smoothly. “New arrival. Thanks for taking care of my partner when they wandered off, kid.” He pokes Kenma's leg with his foot. “C’mon, we have somewhere to be.”

Kenma stands, tucked in close to Kuroo. Kuroo makes to shepherd them forward, but Kenma stops him, turning at the last second to make eye contact with Hinata. “Bye, Shouyou,” they say softly, a tiny smile on their face. Hinata feels warmth bubble up inside of him, enough to counter the ominous feeling of Kuroo staring holes through him. He nods once, firmly, and Kenma allows themself to be herded away, back down the hallway Kuroo appeared from.

Before they turn the corner, Kuroo pauses, leaning his head back. “We’ll be seeing you later,” he adds cryptically.

Hinata puzzles over the message for a long moment before realizing that _fuck, he’s still lost, he should have followed them!_ He scrambles to his feet and tears around the corner, only to find it deserted. Desperately, he rushes down the hallway, only to recklessly plow into the firm body of an unsuspecting victim.

“What the fuck?!”

Oh, wait, that growl is very familiar after all.

Hinata recoils from Kageyama, stiff with surprise and glares. _Of course,_ he thinks. _Even when I think I can do it all on my own, he still shows up to save the day. How typical._ Is this what it meant to be Drift partners? That even when they were pulled as far from each other as possible, they still had the instincts and intuition to guide them to each other’s aid? Hinata resents it. He resents the way Kageyama is scowling at him, but his hands still twitch towards him, like he wants to steady Hinata. The dichotomy between his actions and his instincts is so profound Hinata wants to put it into song. _Kageyama Tobio, the perfect little contradiction…_

“We’re gonna be late for the meeting with the new team from Tokyo,” Kageyama berates him. “What were you doing wandering around here, anyway?”

 _I was running from you,_ Hinata bites back. _Like I always am, nowadays._ But instead of picking a fight he just allows the steam to flow from his body, leaving the shell of his former self he had become accustomed to acting as.

“It doesn’t matter. Come on, let’s just go,” he replies, fighting the frustration from his voice. Kageyama looks unfairly hurt at Hinata’s extinguished words, annoyingly enough. Wasn’t this what he wanted, after all? The close but not too close? Hinata throws him a bone anyway. “I met someone.”

Kageyama raises an eyebrow, leading Hinata back to civilization. “In the pits of the base. You met someone,” he deadpans. Hinata flushes.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh about it if you want. But they were lost like me, only rescued a few moments before you came along…”

 

\----------------------

 

_“Wh-wh—how— **Kenma**?!”_

Hinata’s jaw drops straight to the floor as he points at his new friend, not even the slightest bit embarrassed that he’s making a scene and that he and Kageyama are _very_ late. Kageyama, possessing more sense at that moment, stabs him in the side with his hand and hisses for him to shut up, ears turning red in mortification. Hinata winces but doesn’t change his position, still gaping at Kenma, looking steadily at the ground. Kuroo’s grin widens.

“Are you acquainted with Kozume, Hinata?” Marshal Ukai’s voice is unconcerned and slow, taking his time with each syllable in a way that makes all the assembled stand a little straighter. Kageyama abandons Hinata in a heartbeat, moving to stand by a wide-eyed Yamaguchi and a Noya biting his fist to keep from laughing. The entire crew is there—Saeko, Tanaka, Takeda, and a handful of higher-ranking techs alongside the remaining pilots. And of course, the centerpiece of the gathering is the Marshal himself, cut off in the middle of presenting the base’s new main team, the transfers from Tokyo: Kuroo Tetsurou and Kozume Kenma.

Hinata finds himself in a sea of strangers, but he can’t really blame them. No one wants to be on the Marshal’s bad side.

“Ah…we...met earlier today…Marshal Ukai, sir,” Kenma, _life-saving, glorious_ Kenma breaks in. “I seemed to have failed to mention I was a pilot.”

 _No shit!_ Hinata screams silently.

“Perhaps if he had arrived on time, this wouldn’t have come as such a surprise,” Ukai says icily. Hinata shrinks before him, trying to become one with his jacket collar. “Nevertheless,” the Marshal turns back to the gathering, “as I was saying, I expect you to treat Kuroo and Kozume with all the dignity and respect you did with Sawamura and Sugawara. I know they aren’t the same main team you’re used to, but they’ve run more drops than anyone ‘sides Bokuto and Akaashi, so they know what they’re doing. Have faith in their experience, and keep your minds open to a new way of running things. We have to adapt if we have any hope of beating the kaiju.”

He nods to the pair to speak. Kuroo steps forward gracefully, hands folded behind his back and stance confident. “To start, we’d like to run a quick simulation of a drop. I’ve talked to Saeko-san and it appears your Jaegers are fully functional.” No one breathes a word about the elephant in the room— _what if the pilots aren’t ready, what if they can’t **Drift**_ —but there’s no way Saeko wouldn’t have told them about it. “The sun is high in the sky and there isn’t a storm for miles, so it’s a perfect day to run a sim. I expect you lot suited up and ready to go after we give you the grand tour of Scrapper Nine.” He gestures with a nod to the interior of the Shatterdome, taking the lead.

“Scrapper Nine?” Hinata leans over to whisper to Tanaka, confused.

Tanaka grins as they follow the small crowd making their way to the Jaegers’ stations. “It’s their beast of a Jaeger. Completely one of kind and enough of an animal to give Omega a run for his money. Creepy as hell and legendary; I can’t wait to see it in action. Ain’t that right, Yuu?” Noya appears on Hinata’s other side and fistbumps Tanaka over Hinata’s head.

“Hell yeah it is! I’ve been wanting to see that thing go ever since I got hooked on K Science at university,” he explains. “Plus, Mori and Lev got the nerve fiber suits up and running for good! The beta passed the test and everything—they’re a lot like you and Tobio.”

Hinata’s eyes go wide. “ _They’re_ the ones with ‘the extremely versatile Jaeger’?” He looks ahead to the retreating backs of Kuroo and Kenma, remembering faintly what Noya had said about working with an associate of his to create the nerve fiber suits, about said associate having a team interested in the suits, but he’d never imagined that they would be standing in front of him. _Just who were these two?_

Hinata leaves the company of the scientist-engineer duo to slip to the front and nudge Kenma’s shoulder gently. “I can’t believe you were a pilot this whole time,” he grumbles lightly.

Kenma shrugs one shoulder. “It’s not something I care to talk about.”

“What they mean, short stuff,” Kuroo breaks in, smiling pleasantly at Hinata, “is that they didn’t want you to turn out to be a fanboy of some kind. We’re pretty infamous, you know.”

Hinata narrows his eyes at Kuroo. That ‘ _in_ famous’ didn’t sit well with him. “Yeah? And how did _you_ know that we would be meeting again? You weren’t there when I told Kenma that I was a pilot.”

“Call it intuition.” Kuroo mimicks Kenma, shrugging one shoulder. He reaches out and flicks Hinata in the chest, right over his heart, making the rookie pilot jump away, surprised. “Or maybe just the name and insignia on your jacket. Some of us do our research before getting transferred.”

Hinata’s heart is still beating fast and he feels like a fluffed-up cat, but he sticks his nose in the air and looks away from Kuroo. “Wouldn’t know a thing about it. _I_ didn’t get booted out of my home base.”

Kuroo throws his head back, raucous laughter shaking his whole body. He’s loud enough to halt the surrounding conversations and draw attention to their trio, but only Kenma and Hinata look uncomfortable. He wipes at the corner of his eye dramatically, snickering. “Oh Kenma, I like him, I really do. This base is going to be _quite_ the adventure.”

He gives Hinata a curious look. “Well, you’re not entirely wrong. I don’t doubt that we were unwanted back in Tokyo. But now that we’re here, I hope that we will be able to get along nicely.” He dips his head politely. Hinata can’t tell if he’s being mocked or if Kuroo’s sincere. A nervous-looking Jaeger technician drags Kuroo’s attention from him with stuttered questions about their Jaeger.

“I…don’t know what to make of him,” Hinata admits to Kenma in a whisper.

“If he teases you this much, it means he likes you,” Kenma replies simply. “Kuro is a good person, if a bit mischievous. He takes his job very seriously, but he’s too laid-back to get stressed by it. He’d rather mess with people than act like a professional.”

“And yet, he’s still super intense,” Hinata mutters.

“Mm, well…that’s probably my fault,” Kenma muses, but before Hinata can ask them to clarify, Kenma nods ahead of them. “That’s Scrapper, if you care to see him.” Hinata whips around. An awed _uwaaahhh_ escapes before he can stop himself.

Like Tyrant Omega, Scrapper Nine is black in coloration, but where Omega is thick kaiju hide highlighted by shiny metal peeking from his joints, Scrapper is completely built of dark black metal, glimmering menacingly under the hard light of the Shatterdome. Heavy-set lines of searing red line the black metal, like racing stripes or war paint, accentuating Scrapper’s unusual features.

Hinata tilted his head in surprise. “It’s a Mark IV, isn’t it?” Kenma nods.

“He was specifically designed to suit Kuro and me. A lot of the unnecessary bulk was shed to make him faster and lighter, probably the lightest Mark IV commissioned. Yaku used his design to help develop the first of the Mark V’s.” Hinata gapes, but snaps his jaw shut as another thought occurs to him.

“Kind of light on weaponry, though, isn’t he?” Scrapper stands taller than Omega, but there’s an awkward slump to his shoulders that is familiar to Hinata. He looks less like a Jaeger and more like some over-sized toy that has been left leaning upright against a wall. The red of the stripes leave jagged lines of blood across the thick spines lining Scrapper’s arms and legs and sharp points across the tops of the cannons on his shoulders. Even those are positioned in a seemingly pointless way—aiming at the sky rather than the potential enemy in front of them. For a so-called infamous beast of a Jaeger, Hinata can’t really see what’s so special about it.

“You’d think that…” Kenma murmurs evasively.

“I’m sure they have specialty weapons designed to fit their unique fighting style,” Kageyama’s voice breaks in to their conversation, making both pilots jump. He pointedly doesn’t look at either of them, standing stiffly and awkwardly at Hinata’s side. “They’re not well-known around the globe for nothing.”

He nods respectfully at Kenma. “Kageyama Tobio, at your service.” Despite the polite formality in his voice, Kageyama is raking Kenma with a calculating gaze, as if trying to assess their abilities as a pilot without actually seeing them in action. Kenma shifts uncomfortably, closer to Hinata’s shadow, unable to break eye contact. Hinata feels flashes of Kenma’s underlying power, shifting across their face and just under their skin with each nervous twitch. Kageyama matches their intensity with his own strength, not flinching in the slightest from the superior pilot.

Kageyama’s assessing look flickers between Hinata and Kenma, and he narrows his eyes. “You and Kuroo-san have quite the reputation. I’ve heard things about y—”

“Ohohoho, and what might those be?” Kuroo appears behind Kenma and Hinata, leaning over them to smile knowingly at Kageyama. Kenma’s tension drops immediately with Kuroo’s arrival—to Hinata, it’s almost as if they called out to their co-pilot—wait. Hinata looks down, noting flicker of Kuroo’s fingers towards Kenma and the unconscious way they leaned back into him. Kenma didn’t flinch at his presence, nor did he seem particularly surprised. _Could it be that they had the Ghost Drift?_

That would certainly explain how Kuroo had found Kenma this afternoon. And his knack for sensing Kenma’s distress was uncanny, even for a seasoned team. The only curious part about them was if they had the Ghost Drift, why was Kuroo so over-protective? It struck Hinata as a little strange that someone who could easily get a feel for his partner’s mental and physical health with just a brush over their bond would go to such extremes to stand guard over them. Even if Kenma called out to him, there was no need for Kuroo to directly challenge everyone Kenma came into contact with.

Hinata peers up at Kuroo’s smile, permanently engraved on his face, and tries to get a read on him. It’s a fruitless exercise though—Kuroo is one part Cheshire Cat, mysterious as fog and about as tangible, and one part panther, wild and unpredictable, just toying with those around him like a cat bats around its prey. Hinata thinks about what Kenma told him, that Kuroo took his job very seriously, and he can’t see it. The only evidence of any strain on his person is his closeness to Kenma, both supporting them and using them to hold himself up. He feels a sudden pang of bittersweet déjà vu. _Is that what Kageyama and I used to look like?_

Kageyama himself is still gritting his teeth and struggling to stand his ground against Kuroo. The look of mild suspicion has shifted to outright distaste—and the glare he’s fixing Kuroo with is by no means weak. Hinata’s not quite sure when the shift in the atmosphere occurred, but a once cordial discussion about Scrapper Nine has mutated into a standoff between the taller of the Drift partners with Hinata and Kenma caught in the crossfire.

“I’ve heard the Tokyo base has gotten up to some pretty distasteful business,” Kageyama spits. “Although I’m almost certain it’s not the base that’s the problem—it’s you.”

“What horrible accusations,” Kuroo sighs. “But rumors are just that—rumors.”

“Not quite,” Kageyama growls. “I was there once, too. I ran with the pilots. I have an acquaintance or two that I still keep in touch with.”

Kuroo’s gaze changes from relaxed to razor-sharp in an instance. “So you’re _that_ Tobio? Tooru’s Tobio?”

Hinata and Kageyama freeze in unison. Kuroo couldn’t have known he was stepping on a landmine, but the shrapnel flies just the same, throwing Kageyama off-guard and making Hinata wince. Kuroo tilts his head, intrigued.

“Kuro…” Kenma warns softly, catching the rigidity of Hinata’s posture.

“Curious,” he murmurs, backing down at Kenma’s voice. “Tooru’s prodigy and Kenma’s companion. You’re an interesting duo for sure. I look forward to working with you soon. In half an hour, actually. Put on your nerve suits and show us what you’re made of.”

“Nerve suits? Oh, Kenma!” Hinata calls out to his new friend as they turn to go get ready themself. “You have nerve suits too, right? What’s so special about yours? Noya-san mentioned that you had to get certain adjustments…”

Kenma’s smile is sudden and blinding. In it, Hinata sees the same edge he saw in Kuroo’s, feline grace and power curled into one small body, ready to spring at any time. That same shiver travels down his spine from when they first met.

“Well, it’s not that we’re particularly strong or anything,” they start, confidence in their voice. “But I’d say we’re one-of-a-kind, me and Kuro. Try to keep up, Shouyou.”

The shiver turns to anticipation.

 

\----------------------------

 

Hinata burns through the entire walk to their Drivesuit Room, although he doesn’t remember much of the people or scenery that passed him by. Kenma’s last words to him sit in his head like a challenge or an ultimatum. _I know that we are worthy, but are you?_ Each time he rolls them over in his mind, his pace jumps up a fraction. He’s easily outpacing Kageyama, who mutters a curse under his breath and lengthens his stride. Hinata is biting at the reins with a ferocity he didn’t know still existed in him. He hadn’t been this excited to pilot since their first drop.

The sullen, exhausted Hinata that walked into the Drivesuit Room that morning is not the Hinata that marches in now, head held high, eyes blazing, posture open and commanding. The Drift techs eye him up a little, but scurry to work, muttering amongst themselves. _Something has gotten into Hinata-san today. Yes, yes—that’s a flame I thought was put out. Is there a kaiju out there or something? No, hasn’t been an alarm. Then what is it? **What is it?**_

 _A rival_ , Hinata answers them in his mind. _I’ve found myself a friend and a rival, again._

“Hinata,” Kageyama’s stern tone takes the wind out of Hinata’s sails, and all at once he’s reminded of how stifling it is to Drift with an only marginally cooperative partner. He glances at Kageyama after a moment of mild irritation to meet hard eyes and a deadly serious face. Kageyama doesn’t break eye contact even as the techs slip his suit on. “Hinata, you need to stay away from those two.”

Kageyama is like flint to Hinata’s steel, sparking and lighting him up in all the wrong ways.

Hinata throws his head back and laughs, to Kageyama’s surprise. When he looks at Kageyama again, Kageyama flinches. Hinata may have a smile plastered across his face, but his expression is venomous. “Oh that’s right, you never did tell me what Kuroo-san and Kenma did that was so bad. What, were they better at Drifting than you? What is it that drove Kageyama Tobio to hate two _world-famous_ pilots?”

Kageyama is taken aback. Not only was this the most emotion Hinata had directed at him in a while, but it was also the first time he had seen him so mad and so defensive since the funeral. “Hinata, their reputation is more than just a reputation—it’s a warning sign. Other pilots are _scared_ to run with them, oka—”

“Why can’t you just accept that we’ve been given a lucky break, Kageyama?” Hinata yells at him. “After what went down, we’re lucky to have found a competent team in time for the next kaiju battle, especially with how fucked-up Tsukishima and Yamaguchi are right now! And you just want to spit on this gift because of something you heard from Oikawa-san?”

“Hajime-san,” Kageyama corrects softly. “Oikawa was always close with Kuroo-san. It was Hajime-san who told me what they did.”

Some of the fight leaves Hinata’s eyes. It was a low blow already, striking out at him and using Oikawa to do so, but he had unintentionally brought up Iwaizumi, and that was…far worse. “Even if it was something Iwaizumi-san said, I don’t want to hear it. They’re good for us, Kageyama.”

“I’m trying to look out for you here,” he whispers, confusion wavering in his voice. “Why are you so defensive of them? Because you made a friend?”

Hinata pinches the bridge of his nose, half due to the beginning of a headache making itself known, half to hold back the prickling in his eyes that he would _not_ allow to become tears. “I hate when you get like this,” he hisses. “Acting like you’re in the right, like you only have good intentions, like anything that happened in the past doesn’t matter.

“Yes, so I made a friend, and no, I haven’t known them for very long, but they haven’t given me any reason not to trust them now, have they? I do trust them—their experience speaks for itself, reputation or not. I’m sor—” Hinata thinks better of the apology, shaking his head. “I can’t trust you anymore. That’s something you’ll have to work for again.”

“But if you would just list—”

“I _CAN’T_ Kageyama!” Hinata shouts, loud enough to make the techs jump. He tucks his head close to his chest as they finish zipping him in. “Not this time, _I_ _can’t_.” He storms down the catwalk to Tyrant Omega before he can register Kageyama’s reaction, still looking steadily downwards.

Hinata only looks up as he prepares to climb into the Conn-Pod. A strange impulse compels him to look around, and his gaze is drawn to Scrapper Nine’s station (not Apocalypto Alpha’s, never there). He has to squint, but he can make out two figures, one with a shock of blond hair and the other with a shock of messy black hair. They’re both clad in alarmingly bright red nerve suits, a complete contrast to Kageyama and Hinata’s low-key black ones. A smile twitches on Hinata’s face. The beacon of attention they draw seems characteristic of Kuroo, but completely unwanted by Kenma, who picks at the leg of their suit. Seeing them there, real and strong and ready to lead makes Hinata feel better about his argument with Kageyama. _Even if there’s some darkness attached to them…they’ve returned the beacon of hope we lost,_ he concludes.

Hinata hops in the Jaeger before his mood can sour, a small smile back on his face. He doesn’t waste time dilly-dallying around in the Jaeger but steps right onto the command platform and initiating pre-launch procedures, rendering the Jaeger techs present useless. His mind has been yanked back to piloting, snuffing out any unnecessary negative emotion with the familiar routine of set-up. He’s done and linked into the four-way com by the time Kageyama starts to settle in next to him.

 **…and Kou punted the darn thing all the way across the bay! Man, but Category Ones are a ball to fight. Too bad our Mission Control wasn’t nearly as cool as this one, always telling us to ‘stop wasting oil and taxpayer money’ or we would have messed around all day with that thing.** Hinata catches the tail end of Kuroo’s story, greeted with a laugh from Saeko and twin sighs of discontent from Kenma and Tsukishima.

 **As amusing as that is,** Saeko chuckles. **We won’t be fighting any actual kaiju today.** **Think you can handle two rookie teams instead?**

 **Always do** , Kuroo and Kenma reply in unison.

Kageyama links into Omega. Hinata can feel the presence of his mind, just a bundle of wires, sheets of metal, and some relay fluid away. He doesn’t flinch at the yearning in his own mind, reaching for its partner. He knows the feeling well enough already.

Saeko calls for a neural handshake, and then the three become one. The synchronization process is too careful and clinical for either of them to feel comfortable, Omega used as a buffer between the direct contact of their minds. They’re barely touching, just enough to stay in sync. Kageyama’s thought flicker over their earlier conversation and worry that it will affect their performance now, but Hinata has moved past that. He clamps down on Kageyama’s doubts with startling strength.

 _How I feel about you and how you feel about me doesn’t matter in the Drift,_ he tells Kageyama. _All that matters is that we understand each other and move as one. So for now, don’t think about it. This isn’t self-reflection time._

 _I knew that_ , Kageyama replies quietly, miffed. _I just wanted to make sure **you** knew that._

The smile quirking at the edge of Hinata’s mouth spreads into a grin at the old, familiar ribbing despite himself. _Let’s kick their ass, then. I really want to beat them._ Kageyama assents with the nod of his head and then they’re ready for battle.

The helicopters lower the three Jaegers into the training bay with the smash of tons upon tons of metal and machinery. Tyrant Omega lands with feline grace, his pilots already locked into the battle mindset. Gold Strike lands a little unbalanced, lurching to the side as one foot hits the water before the other, but Scrapper Nine is even more ungraceful. He nearly keels over altogether, still swaying uncertainly as Kuroo purrs across the com, ready to start the drill.

 **Alright newbies, we’re gonna take this nice and easy,** he begins. **Well, Kenma and I will. We’re kind of slow starters, so we’ll need you two to run the initial strikes. This may not be something you’re used to, but it’s the way we’ll be running command.**

Kageyama meets Hinata’s eyes. _Don’t say it,_ Hinata warns across the Drift.

 **As for how exactly you want to fight…we’ll leave a lot of that up to you. From what I understand, you’re used to a lot of team dynamics in fighting kaiju—no more. Most of our battles will be the combined efforts of individuals with their own missions in mind to start,** Kuroo continues.

“What are you saying?” Kageyama hisses into the com. “Fighting on our own is suicide!”

 **On the contrary,** Kenma’s voice replies. **Waiting for orders after every assault is suicide. There was too much imbalance in your last team. Kaiju battles should be run by autonomous Jaegers and their pilots, not worker bees answering to a queen.**

“We didn’t—” Kageyama starts, but then pauses. Actually, when he reflected on it, they did depend on the plan laid out by Daichi and Koushi. It’s one of the reasons Kageyama had been afraid to battle again—without those two to guide them, how could they fight? But if Kuroo and Kenma were going to teach them to fight on their own…

 **This simulation isn’t about winning,** Kenma explains. **If you fail, that’s okay. It’s about figuring out your own style of battle. Then it’s up to me and Kuro to bind us all together into a cohesive unit.**

Kageyama has nothing to say to that.

 **Well now, shall we begin? Saeko-san, if you would,** Kuroo asks pleasantly. Saeko gives the order, and the virtual kaiju takes form. There’s a moment of awkward hesitation where the two rookie teams look to Scrapper for instructions. **And? Get to it, attack it!** Kuroo orders with a laugh. **Oh, I guess you can follow our lead this time.**

And with that, Scrapper Nine drops from two legs to four.

It’s not like when Omega occasionally used his hands as paws to balance or catch himself, righting himself back up to two in a heartbeat. Scrapper Nine was built to be on four legs, his entire body shifting to accommodate the change and shift into place. A long, plated tail detaches and unfurls, the end of it revealing a small, easily maneuverable plasma cannon that shifts with the frighteningly natural twitches of the Jaeger’s tail. Inside the Conn-Pod, the Jaeger pilots also shift from two legs to four, their specially designed command platforms buckling them in tightly in order to defy gravity and allow for freedom of movements.

 **Hand-to-hand combat weapons are lost on us,** Kuroo laughs at the stunned silence across the com. **Don’t get left behind now.**

The Jaeger walks forward, slow, but gradually gaining speed as it moves towards the kaiju, the full range of its projectile weaponry revealing itself in the raising of their hatches. It hits a run after a few grueling minutes, like some kind of sleek, metallic panther.

“Impossible,” Kageyama says faintly.

“Haven’t you seen them before?” Hinata asks weakly. “You were at their base, right?”

“Not long enough to see this, and their battles are hardly ever televised…I had heard stories, but I never _really_ thought—”

Hinata laughs, wild and excited. The fire’s in his blood again, trickling over to Kageyama just a little. “But it’s exciting isn’t it? They’re like us, like Omega—unnatural. Mistakes. So that’s what you meant by ‘one-of-a-kind’, Kenma!” There’s no reply, but Hinata isn’t discouraged.

“But even like that, we won’t be losing,” Hinata resolves, and the fire burns his veins to steel, molding him into something unbreakable and powerful. Steam practically hisses from each of his deep exhalations, Omega’s massive presence dwarfed by Hinata’s elevated heartbeat, filling Kageyama’s head and drowning out his dull fear with anticipation. He barely registers when Hinata leads their movements forwards.

 _Just when did you become stronger than me, Hinata?_ Kageyama wonders faintly.

 

\------------------------------

 

“I don’t get it,” Saeko finally admits, rubbing her forehead tiredly. “Nothing here makes sense.”

“Gold Strike was sure to be rough af—” Takeda starts, but Saeko dismisses him with the wave of a hand. Of course Gold Strike was going to be terrible. The results from this morning had been abysmal, almost as if they weren’t Drift compatible at all. They had always been a bit of a gamble, those two, with their abnormal and unbalanced Drift, but both Saeko and the Marshal had believed them to be stable enough. It was something on Tsukishima’s end, which was unfortunate. Although Yamaguchi was replaceable in terms of his sync scores, Tsukishima was invaluable. If only he didn’t have a tendency for being a drama queen when it came to Drifting.

“No, it’s not them. That was within expected parameters. If anything, their performance now has helped me make up my mind on whether to demote them. I’m going to recommend that the Marshal raise Tyrant Omega to the position of primary assist and drop Gold Strike to secondary assist,” she explains, eyeing Strike’s lumbering gait and poor aim at the simulated kaiju with disdain.

“Kageyama and Hinata aren’t ready to be elevated with so little experience,” Ukai argues softly. “Even with Gold Strike’s sudden incompatibility between pilots, he’s still worth more than two that haven’t seen the range.”

Frustrated, Saeko turns on him, gesturing violently at the HUD showing real-time imagery of the battle. “God _dammit_ Keishin! Now is _not_ the time to stick to your ‘tried and true’ principles of Jaeger pilot quality! There’s obviously something severely wrong with the pilots! If they don’t get their shit together they’ll fall out of the Drift like Kageyama and Hinata did last time and then we really won’t have anyone to protect Japan.”

The entire Control Room goes deathly still at Saeko’s outburst. The only indicator that the Marshal is furious is the working of his jaw and Takeda’s nervous glances at him. “ _One_ ,” he hisses, even softer, “don’t ever call me by my first name. Two—no, don’t you _dare_ interrupt me, Tanaka, or I swear to _god above_ that I will give Michimiya your job—two, don’t _ever_ call me by my first name. We’re not friends and this isn’t a game you’re playing at: it’s war. You _will_ respect my decisions.” Saeko seethes but doesn’t say a word.

“Tsukishima and Yamaguchi know the ropes. They know that they’re fucking up, and no amount of pressure from the higher-ups is going to fix that. They either work out the kink in their relationship or they fail to Drift completely and we drop them. Then we’d _really_ be screwed,” he snarls. “You just try scouting any half decent recruits with all the crap coming in and all the teams being taken down. We have no choice but to rely on them.”

Saeko takes a deep breath and exhales angrily. “Well, they aren’t even the real problem here, anyway.” She makes a stabbing motion at the screen that now shows a four-legged Jaeger hovering around the outside of the drill, Kuroo’s voice barely audible, shouting _communicate, communicate! Gotta make sure your attacks aren’t going to conflict! You have the com for a reason!_

“Just who the hell did you transfer in, Marshal Ukai, _sir_.”

The Marshal purses his lips. “They were a necessary risk and also the only ones any primary base was willing to let go on such short notice.”

“Their readings…” Saeko turns to Michimiya, who she had brought in for the express purpose of making sense of the readings of the new main team. “Can you make any sense of them, Yui-chan?”

Michimiya shakes her head slowly. “I’ve seen the range, of course. I’ve seen all kinds of wacky Drifts, but this is…it’s not an accident, and that’s the most unbelievable part. Wait, scratch that, the most unbelievable part is that they can function, let alone pilot a Jaeger as unique as that one. They must be struggling to hold onto the Drift at all times.”

“Explain,” Ukai orders tersely.

Saeko glares at him. “What she’s saying is that they’re even more of an anomaly than Kageyama and Hinata. Their Drift…it’s a complete imbalance of power. The neural load appears to be evenly shared between the two, but every movement that they make involves a lurch between their brains across the Drift. It’s like a synapse firing a signal for the body to move, but only between the two of them. In this case, Kozume is the brain and Kuroo is the body. All movement is driven by Kuroo, but he only moves when Kozume tells him to.”

Ukai and Takeda look stunned. Saeko nods at their expressions. “It really shouldn’t be possible. Even though they’re Drifting, for Kuroo this must feel like moving the Jaeger all by himself. As for Kozume…” Saeko shrugs helplessly. “I don’t know what’s so important that they have to think on their own rather than assist their partner.”

There’s a chime from the computer indicating a successful takedown of the simulated kaiju. Kuroo orders for them to call it quits, despite Hinata’s raring to go again. Tsukishima and Yamaguchi are drenched in sweat, from what can be seen from the grainy picture of the Conn-Pod inner camera. Kenma says nothing much, but assents to the end of the drill. In the Control Room, nobody moves until the second time Kuroo asks for confirmation, and Saeko breaks the spell, hurrying back to the computer with laughing apologies that only sound hollow to the occupants of the room.

 

\-----------------------

 

Kuroo’s fingers trail the peeling, bland wallpaper of the hospital walls as he makes his way to the extended treatment ward. It’s the only place in the tiny secondary base that’s not metal above, below, and to either side. Perhaps it was to make the patients feel less like they were being slowly suffocated inside a metal box, perhaps it was to give them one final happy memory before they passed on, moaning and miserable. Kuroo doesn’t know. He hasn’t been to a hospital since Oikawa threw him out, told him to make himself useful since he certainly wasn’t helping Oikawa just lingering there.

That’s what Kuroo’s good at, lingering. His purpose is to exist as a ghost, just another cog in the machine, here in one moment, gone in the next. It’s how he has to survive. How _they_ have to survive.

Sometimes, he wishes he could comfort the other important people in his life, but he threw that away when he dedicated his body, mind, and soul to Kenma. Not that he regrets it.

Stationed outside Koushi’s door is a vaguely familiar slumped figure. He’s got the wear of years of service and the exhaustion of shouldering others’ burdens on his own two shoulders. He’s bent, as most of his kind are—the ones crazy enough to want to help the kaiju defense bases and all those involved—stress permanently engraved in his features and a calm that comes from an overabundance of experience. He’s seen things for sure, but the crumpled lab coat and frazzled mess of usually so well-kept hair tells Kuroo that he hasn’t seen something like Koushi in a long time. Or maybe he just never became desensitized to it.

“Is Sugawara Koushi available for visitors, doc?” Kuroo asks smoothly.

Ennoshita Chikara looks up at him with the faintest dregs of recognition etched into a face that had seen too much for someone barely over thirty. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “Of all the people who I thought might show up, I didn’t expect you, Kuroo,” he sighs, voice as exhausted as the rest of him. He combs his hair back into something remotely presentable with his fingers and leans back off his knees, splaying out in the uncomfortable-looking hospital chair.

“Your ass will get flat if you sit there all day,” Kuroo points out.

Ennoshita shoots him a half-hearted glare and loosens his tie, but doesn’t rise to the bait. “What’re you doing here, Kuroo,” he deadpans, resigned to the slow torture of talking to Kuroo.

Kuroo blinks at him innocently. “I’m here to pay my respects to the last living pilot of Apocalypto Alpha, of course. It’s only right, given that Daichi and I knew each other.”

A snort. “Didn’t Daichi beat your ass that one time and hated you ever since?”

“He was still a brother-in-arms. So was Suga.”

Ennoshita glares at him, this time firmly. “ _Is_. He’s not beyond hope just yet. Suga may be incapacitated but he’s still here. You didn’t write off Oikawa now, did you?”

“Tooru won’t ever pilot again,” Kuroo says, some of the humor falling from his voice. “He’s made the most of his condition; I only pray that Suga will do the same.”

Ennoshita sighs again, rubbing his eyes. “Look, I don’t want to fight with you. If anything, I want you in there with him, helping him open up again. That’s the best treatment I can offer at this time—small doses of human contact. He needs to know that all hope is not lost and that he’s still needed. Try to do that for me, Kuroo. Please?”

He actually does look distressed that Kuroo will do something awful to Koushi. Kuroo looks at the door, a single, narrow window showing him nothing but a bundle of sheets at the end of the bed. He looks back at Ennoshita. “What should I expect from him?”

He receives a pained smile in return. “He’s on the neurodrugs; he won’t bother you much. But he’s not any Suga you might have once known.” Kuroo nods politely and pads to the door, opening it slowly so as not to disturb the room’s occupant. He steps in and closes it delicately with a _click_ , then faces the shell of Sugawara Koushi.

Koushi is haggard, even worse off than Ennoshita. For a moment, with the late sun streaming in through his hospital window and lighting upon his thin form and ruffled hair, Kuroo thinks he sees Oikawa, like he was back then. His chest aches in that moment, but then it fades and he is left with the dull curiosity of sunken eye sockets and a self-deprecating smile that twitches weakly at the corners of Koushi’s mouth. He looks like hell.

“You look like hell,” Kuroo says by way of a hello.

Koushi laughs at that, quiet and shaking his fragile body enough that Kuroo feels he is looking at fine glass rattling and ready to topple. That’s how this Koushi is—supremely fragile and inches away from tumbling over the edge and shattering. But for now, he remains high on that shelf, rattling away but hardly moving. He gives Kuroo a more genuine smile this time, grateful for his presence. “I feel like hell. So Tokyo sent you after all? Bet they couldn’t wait to ditch you and Kozume.”

Kuroo practically falls into one of the chairs at the end of Koushi’s bed, snickering. “I can’t tell you how hard Marshal Nekomata smiled when he told us we’d be transferred. Not that he isn’t always smiling, but,” Kuroo assents. Leaning on his knees, he claps his hands together. “So. What have you been up to? Can’t imagine it’s much fun being cooped up here with only a stuffy doctor for company.”

Koushi rolls his eyes. “You watch yourself. Chikara flew all the way from California to be here for me because we’re old friends. He’s the best in the field, you know. I’m not that special or important of a case to be focusing on—I got lucky.”

Kuroo rolls his eyes right back at Koushi. “Leading expert on Untimely Drift Severance Syndrome, inventor of neurodrugs, personal doctor to the most famous Jaeger pilots in history…yeah, I got the whole spiel.” He cocks his head to the side. “And yet, despite his expertise, he looks especially bothered by your case. What exactly have you done to him, Sugawara Koushi?”

“Ah, that’s the Kuroo I know,” Koushi replies, smile turning bitter. “Never did do anything without a reason, did you.” Kuroo can’t argue with that one. “You would look the same, if a close friend of yours had died and left another close friend in ruins. Imagine medicating and giving treatment to someone you used to know so well as they become a completely different person. Imagine having to force drugs down their throat just so they start acting like a human and less like a wild animal slowly being burned to death.”

“That’s enough,” Kuroo says softly. “That’s good enough. I didn’t come here to push your buttons, I apologize.” Koushi takes a few deep breaths and pinches the bridge of his nose. “You need to get back in the world; I’m just here to help.”

Koushi barks out a laugh. “Get back out in the world, yeah, right.” He looks out the window with the same twist of bitterness to his expression. “That’s what Chikara’s been feeding you, right? But you know. I’m never going back out there.”

That’s enough to quiet Kuroo. There are some things that demand respect even from the most laid-back of people. Pilots diagnosed with UDSS were one of those things. He never really got over seeing Oikawa when he had it, and seeing the same drastic shift in personality, the coldness and the self-hatred in Koushi as it was in Oikawa really threw Kuroo. _No one really gets over this; not the patients, not the doctors, and not the observers, either._

“D’you have anything to drink?”

Kuroo looks up at Koushi, still facing the window, then scans the room haphazardly. “Shouldn’t you know where water is by now?” Kuroo grumbles. “You’re the one who lives here. If you wanted to be waited on, Ennoshita is right outside.”

Koushi shakes his head, turning back around. “No, no, I’m sorry; I didn’t explain myself. Do you have alcohol by any chance? I’m not very picky at this point, anything would do.” He looks at Kuroo like this is a genuine request, like this is something Kuroo should just _have_ on him, pull out of his ass, and hand over. What a great idea, giving a patient drugged with some of the strongest forms of swallow-able medication in the field spirits. Sounds like a terrific combo, if Koushi wanted to die. (Kuroo feels uneasy with that train of thought and drops it.)

Kuroo’s eyes narrow. “I thought the neurodrugs were supposed to stop the memory looping and water down your emotions. What do you need a drink for?”

Koushi sways back and forth in his bed. “That’s exactly why I need one,” he sighs. “Now that I can see and think straight, I’m just…thinking about them. Everyone I’ve lost, to kaiju or otherwise. I should feel sad, I should scream and wail, but all I feel is a faint tugging at my heart.” He rubs at the skin over his heart slowly and almost obsessively—Kuroo can see that it’s red and irritated from being touched too much.

“I just want to forget everything,” Koushi admits.

“And what are you going to do about the kids? They still look up to you as a leader,” Kuroo asks. Koushi blinks at him, but there’s no judgment or accusation in his expression. Koushi blows a tuft of hair from his face.

“They’re better off not seeing me like this,” Koushi says confidently. “I don’t know what I would do if they saw me in the state I was in before the neurodrugs. Surely they would never be able to look me in the eyes again.” He laughs. “Imagine that! Watching your superior snivel and sob all over the floor like some petulant child throwing a fit.”

 _He doesn’t know,_ Kuroo realizes. Kuroo himself only knew because he had asked about their mental states before the drill.

Koushi looks fondly at something too far away for Kuroo to see. “How are they, Kuroo? You’ve seen them, right?”

Kuroo nods. “Ran a drill with them and Kenma today, actually.”

Koushi looks honestly interested. “So soon? Oh, I’m glad for that! I had worried they would take our loss too heavily.”

Despite all the tales woven about him and his treacherous grin, Kuroo isn’t a liar. He prefers to twist the truth where it suits him and use brutal honesty when it will have the greatest impact. He may withhold information or dance around a truth or distract, but outright lying has never appealed to him. It leaves a bad taste in his mouth, spouting off some grand story crafted from his own fancy and then watching the eyes of his victim widen in acceptance of his words. His deceitful silver tongue could plant that belief in anyone’s heart with emphasis on just the right words and the most fitting injections of emotion or shifting body language, and he hates it.

But when Sugawara Koushi, a man not quite living and not quite dead, tilting and wavering on that top shelf, waiting to fall—to shatter—looks at Kuroo with such hope in his eyes, Kuroo finds that he can push the images of pilots distinctly not-touching and the jerky, unfluid movements of a poorly commanded Jaeger from his mind.

“Hinata and Kageyama are very eager, although I don’t think they like me much,” Kuroo says, a grin painted on his face. “Kenma has taken to Hinata, too.”

“Hmph, they have good taste,” Koushi says with a nod. “I wouldn’t have much liked you, either. What about Tsukishima and Yamaguchi?”

A hidden wince. “They’re a little shaken, but getting better. They don’t want to be left behind by the rookies, that’s for sure.”

Koushi leans back. “Sounds like Yamaguchi for sure. He wouldn’t want to lose again.” _Again?_ “Well, as much as Daichi and I found you two to be unpleasant, hopefully they will keep an open mind and mesh well with you. Lord knows we need functionality.”

“And what about you,” Kuroo tests the waters, “don’t you think you need to get better, eventually? Kenma and I can’t pull this team together on our own—we don’t know them like you do.”

Koushi tilts his head and smiles gently. “After my parents and my little brother were killed in a kaiju attack when I was young, I always used to look to the sea for comfort. I was raised in a fishing village, little ways out from the city. Nothing big, but it was home,” he begins.

“The ocean, the ceaseless rush of water, was my companion, as it was the companion of every fisherman back then. They risked its awesome power and tested their friendship in the hopes that their friend the ocean would spare some of its bounty for the people of the land. Or at least that’s how the village legend goes.” He laughs. “Having kaiju rising from that old companion was almost like the sea got angry at us for taking all of its fish—we figured that somehow this was some divine punishment for those folk in the big city who didn’t respect nature, same way those men who didn’t respect the ocean’s fury got lost out there and drowned. We never figured the kaiju would show any interest in us.

“Of course, the kaiju aren’t some fantastic natural event, I know that now. They’re unearthly and bent on destruction. They don’t care for the same kind of morals humble fisher people care for. But even after I had to face that harsh reality, I still trusted and loved the sea. Daichi knew that. Just seeing or hearing it calmed me, made me remember all the good times with Mom and Dad and Kai. It was therapy. It was relaxation.”

His smile turns blinding, sad and loving and pure. “I loved the ocean, but it was never my home; it was just a friend. Daichi was where I built my new home when my old one was destroyed. I didn’t realize that home could be a person, not until the shingles were nailed on the roof and I could see that white picket fence all ready to be set up in our yard. Then Daichi drowned, killed by my oldest companion, and it took back the home I tried to rebuild.”

(Kuroo doesn’t regret all that much, either. He’s a logical, quick thinker, and he acts in his best interests. There’s no time to regret his decisions when he’s analyzed them so thoroughly. But he has time now to regret opening that door or walking down that hallway, fingers trailing along paint as chipped and worn as the hospital’s permanent occupant.)

“So you see, Kuroo, I can’t go to the ocean anymore,” Koushi says softly. “My homes, old and new, have been snatched from me, and I can’t even turn to the one place I found peace. Where, exactly, would you have me go, if I were to leave this place?”

Kuroo doesn’t have an answer, and they both know it.

“I might as well just kick the bucket now. If it weren’t for Chikara being here for me, I would be gone by now; he should stop wasting his drugs on someone who has already signed their contract with the reaper,” Koushi sighs. “But I won’t die in front of a friend. I wouldn’t do that to him.”

It’s surreal, talking to a living corpse. It’s surreal, talking to a living corpse and praying that every exhale isn’t its last. “He must have had a reason,” Kuroo murmurs.

“Pardon?” Koushi asks.

Kuroo straightens up. “He must have had a reason for leaving you like he did, for abandoning you.”

“Hm? Oh, that.” Koushi runs fingers through his hair. “He did, of course he did, foolish, loving boy—” A pause. “It was an act of pure, reckless love for me that drove Sawamura Daichi to forget the suffering of my past and only worry for my life and my future. I felt it, I would know. In that split-second of making the decision to sacrifice himself, Daichi did not think about how I would burn without him. He only thought that I was strong enough to shoulder the weight of loss and strong enough to move on. He put his faith in a person that I am not.”

“A rather selfish act of love, to make such grand assumptions without consulting his partner,” Kuroo adds.

“Mmm, I suppose you’re right,” Koushi nods. “His was the easy path, even if he did not intend it to be so. But the human mind is a flawed one, and even the kindest intentions can sour and become cruel, given the right circumstances.” A bitter twitch of the mouth. “And we had the right circumstances.”

“But you accept it.”

“No,” Koushi argues. “I can’t accept that Daichi did the right thing. I’m not ready to forgive him just yet for what he’s done to me. But I’m also not about to soil the memory of all he did right by me. In time, perhaps, I can forgive him. Just not today.” He brushes hair from his eyes. “I must have bored you.”

“On the contrary,” Kuroo replies. “I’ve learned quite a lot.”

Koushi closes his eyes, fluffing the pillow. “That’s all well and good for you, then. Leave me now, Kuroo. I’m not as skilled at conversation as I used to be, and their memory tires me out quickly. I need my next dose and then I plan on sleeping for a good long while.”

Kuroo stands up, but only to move to Koushi’s bedside. “If there’s anything Kenma and I can do for you…”

Koushi waves a hand absently. “Just peace of mind and time. That’s what I need now. Do your job and look after my rookies; that’s all I ask of you.”

Kuroo nods his assent even though Koushi’s eyes are closed. He leaves the room as quietly as he entered, finding Ennoshita in the same place he left him. Ennoshita rises to his feet to greet Kuroo, but the suspicion has left his eyes. “Is he okay?” the doctor asks tentatively.

Kuroo raises an eyebrow. “You tell me. You’re the expert.” Ennoshita makes a frustrated noise and Kuroo caves. “Alright, alright. He talked to me for a long time. He’s lively enough, even though he intends to live out the rest of his days in that tiny room. He’s not…hurting.” Relief floods Ennoshita’s eyes.

Kuroo knows that look anywhere. “He won’t get better, will he? Not like Tooru did.”

The softness leaves his eyes as quickly as it entered. “I told you, I’m not giving up on him. Suga is strong—he can survive this. I won’t let him go without giving every ounce of effort I can to help him get better. How could I call myself a doctor—a _friend_ —if I didn’t?” He rips open Suga’s door and marches inside without bidding Kuroo farewell.

That’s fine. Kuroo got what he came for.

 _Are you okay?_ Kenma’s voice reaches across their bond, a faint tugging of concern that makes Kuroo anxious for leaving them for so long.

 _It was a little jarring,_ he admits. _Looks just like Tooru did._ A respectful silence. _But I got some interesting information, so I think it was worth it._

_Oh?_

_We were right about Kageyama and Hinata—they’re climbers, even if they’re shaken. We can rely on them for our operation. You’ve got an in with Hinata and I might try my luck using Tooru to get to Kageyama. But on the other hand, we might be completely wrong about Tsukishima and Yamaguchi._

_They’re a more defined team, Kuro, it’s doubtful that their personalities and capabilities will change much._

_No, no, hear me out. I think Yamaguchi’s stronger than we gave him credit for. Yes, he had to fight for his spot, but from what Suga’s saying it seems like he’s going to fight tooth and nail to stay there, even at the expense of his partner. He’s not hiding in Tsukishima’s shadow or wallowing in contentment. He’s still trying._

_Hm. Do you want to replace Tsukishima, then?_

_Suga isn’t a viable replacement, unfortunately. He’s beyond burned out. Let me try something first._

_I hate it when you say that._

 

\-------------------------------

 

This, Tsukishima thinks, is what he can trust. The staff moves with him, elegant arcs carving their way through the air as he dances, the spitting image of grace and danger. Off to the side, his glasses lay tucked safely on top of a pile of mats, but Tsukishima doesn’t need the glass to understand the movements of his body and weapon. He closes his eyes and goes into a spin, reveling in the strain of his muscles holding the staff in a swipe in front of his body. Sweats runs down his arms and face in the already baking Kwoon Room, but to Tsukishima, it feels liberating. There’s nothing better to free one’s mind than freeing one’s body.

_This is what I can trust. The pull of muscle and the creak of bone. Myself, my flesh, my blood. That’s all._

The drill had been abysmal, to say the least. Between Yamaguchi’s ferocious struggle to stay afloat and cling to the tiniest thread of a Drift between them and his own barely concealed panic at drowning and crashing around his partner, it was a miracle that they had moved the Jaeger one foot. Saeko knew it. Tyrant Omega knew it. Those new transfer pilots knew it.

Each pass at the kaiju had been a struggle. Each step a journey. Each blast of their sniper rifle a punch to the gut. Tsukishima hadn’t known that piloting could be so painful until he was covered in a cold sweat, muscles shaking, after only minutes. The drill hadn’t even lasted an hour— _an hour_ —before Kuroo and Kozume called it quits. They knew.

_The feeling of bile rising in his throat as the connection was rejected—Yamaguchi chewing him and spitting him up even though he was the one who looked drenched with the indomitable tide of Tsukishima’s mind. The metallic burn on his tongue as Gold Strike, too, pushed him away. **You don’t belong here. You don’t deserve to pilot me.** _

_Falling. I’m falling._

Tsukishima snaps his eyes open, sensing the other’s presence even before he turns the corner, leaning casually against the doorway (why did he leave it open why _why **why**_ ). He’s only a blurred image to Tsukishima’s fuzzy vision, but the aura he gives off is unmistakable. Tsukishima reaches for his glasses, polishing them on his tank and completely ignoring Kuroo’s invasion of his privacy. When he finally slips them on and glances carelessly at Kuroo, he finds him in workout sweats and a tank of his own, knowing smirk splayed across his face.

Tsukishima wants to punch him, and doesn’t bother trying to hide the viciousness of his presence.

“Swinging that stick here all alone is pretty lonely, don’t you think?” Kuroo asks conversationally. Tsukishima ignores him, facing the side wall with an intense effort to concentrate and not feel clever cat eyes digging their claws into him. He loops the staff easily, fluidly, checking an invisible opponent.

“One could almost say it’s… _pathetic_.”

_“Pathetic,” Kei had said softly, watching the other kids on the playground throw clumps of sand at each other, thump, thump. “He was really pathetic after all.” Thump, thump. Like shoveled dirt, fresh on a coffin with Akiteru’s name already written on it…_

The staff clatters to the floor.

Kuroo steps into the room, circling Tsukishima’s mat like a shark, smelling blood in the water. If he notices the white half-moons of Tsukishima’s knuckles, quivering fists, and staggered breaths, he says nothing of it. “Hit a nerve, didn’t I?” Kuroo assesses. “I seem to make a habit of doing that.” Tsukishima doesn’t respond.

“Come on,” Kuroo says, reaching for a staff of his own. “You want to fight, and I want to get to know you. Dance with me, Tsukishima Kei.”

“We aren’t compatible,” Tsukishima shuts him down. “There’s no point. I’ll be taking my leave now.”

“What good has running away done you yet?” Kuroo laughs, stopping him with the swift extension of his staff. “Certainly hasn’t done that haggard co-pilot of yours any good. Taken a good look at him rec—”

Tsukishima’s fist grazes the side of Kuroo’s cheek as he’s barely fast enough to dodge the vicious punch. He hops back a few steps, meeting the eyes of a man on fire. They set to circling each other immediately, Tsukishima going for his staff once more. Kuroo would have his fight. _So it’s not the brother that’s the trigger, after all. Interesting, interesting._

Tsukishima usually figures himself a reserved fighter, waiting for attacks to fall on him and then turning them on his attacker rather than throwing himself blind into combat. But Kuroo is possibly even more laid-back than him, using his words as taunts to make Tsukishima’s eyes and judgment cloud to the point where he throws himself at Kuroo, only to be deflected time and time again.

He’s being reckless and there’s no way Kuroo doesn’t notice it. He could have won five times over by now, but he wants to draw out the fight, fan the embers until Tsukishima is a blind blaze. His words and casual insults speak of flaunting his own skill in combat, but the way his eyes roam over Tsukishima and the way he listens intently to any response Tsukishima utters tells him otherwise: he’s being assessed. Tsukishima doesn’t know what Kuroo’s looking for in him, but he certainly is _looking_ , raking Tsukishima’s body with a violent intensity.

Honestly, Tsukishima doesn’t care. He just wants to crack his staff over Kuroo’s head just once. _How dare you speak so nonchalantly of them._

_But where’s his ground to stand on when he’s stranded them in the wide blue of the open ocean, a shark like Kuroo, just watching, just waiting for them to drown. It doesn’t matter how many times Kuroo bumps their struggling figures; they’re Tsukishima’s prey and in the end, he’s the one that will sink his teeth into their legs, pulling them down into the depth of his own darkness, blacker than the Mariana Trench and equally as cold…_

The end of Kuroo’s staff smacks him in the gut, knocking the wind from Tsukishima’s lungs and leaving him clutching his stomach and wheezing.

“Ha!” there’s victory in Kuroo’s shout, but it’s deeper than checking his sparring partner. Tsukishima looks up warily to see him carelessly leaning into the staff, having hardly broken a sweat, muscles standing out in an elaborate display of power. “I’ve got you figured out, Tsukishima Kei!” he practically _giggles_.

“You don’t know a thing about me,” Tsukishima seethes, straightening up with a wince. Kuroo doesn’t let him. The staff is behind Tsukishima’s calves before he can register the movement, and he’s swept off his feet in one deft movement. He crashes to ground with a painful _thud_ , hissing audibly at the contact.

“I don’t, do I?” Kuroo laughs. “Oh, I know you well enough. Maybe not your favorite food or your celebrity crush, but I know what makes up a Tsukishima Kei, what’s underneath that prickly outer shell.” Tsukishima stands up again, and this time, irritation flares in his eyes. Kuroo tilts his head. “I know what makes you a fighter, and in the end, that’s all that really matters.”

Tsukishima lunges at him, only to be dodged again at the last second, Kuroo’s staff smacking the small of his back and knocking him off balance once more. He doesn’t get up this time, just suffers the indignity with gritted teeth and deep, angry breaths. “You’ve proved your point,” he snarls. “You’re a better fighter and you know how to read another pilot. Congrats. It’s not like you didn’t know how to do that before, you fucking show pony.”

Kuroo’s grin is downright feral. “You know, Suga was wrong about you.”

 _Enough. Enough of the riddles. I’m not lost; I’m not Alice. You’ve caught the wrong wretched soul, Cheshire Cat._ “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Suga said that you and Yamaguchi were something great,” he murmurs. “But look at you—you’re not connected to your partner at all.” He presses the staff under Tsukishima’s chin and forces him to look up, catching his cheek when he tries to look away. “You open up so little. It’s like fighting against a brick wall. If you can’t even duel with your opponent, how are you supposed to merge souls with your brother-in-arms?”

Tsukishima knocks the staff away with his hand and shoots to his feet. “I don’t care much for your mysterious lectures. There’s not a chance you could understand anything about me or my co-pilot from beating me with a stick.” He turns away.

“How do you Ghost Drift?”

His blood turns to ice and he turns back around, slowly. “Excuse me?”

Kuroo’s face is surprisingly devoid of humor. He’s still smiling, but there’s a cold, knowing edge to it that says he already knows the answer. “I said,” he repeats carefully, “how do you Ghost Drift with you co-pilot?”

Tsukishima swallows. “We don’t. We don’t use the Ghost Drift.”

In a fit of earth-shattering hysteria, Kuroo throws his head back and laughs, loud and obnoxious. It echoes down the halls as he doubles over uncontrollably, smacking his thigh. He finally reels in the mirth to mere snickers, dramatically wiping a tear from his eye. Tsukishima feels dread sink into his gut.

“You don’t Ghost Drift,” Kuroo states. “Of course you don’t. Of course you don’t.”

“It’s dangerous and unneccess—” Tsukishima defends himself.

“You’re a goddamn _fool_ if you think it’s unnecessary, Tsukishima,” Kuroo spits, vicious. “Your very existence is a danger to the kaiju, and they are a danger to you. There is no safety in this life you have chosen—just the punch of metal and the spill of blue. There is no time to worry about degrees of safety and to weigh the risks. The Ghost Drift is a gift given to humanity to build up their strength and trust in each other so that they can force thousand-ton hunks of wires and plating to become archangels in their time of need. You are going to die on that field, _Tsukki_ , by water or by fire or by the hand of the demons that crawled from some unearthly hell, but you _will_ die here. And here you are, worrying over the _minutiae_ of your inevitable end.”

“Oh really? And what of Suga-san, rotting away on the hospital after his sanity was stolen from him by the very man who claimed to love him?” Tsukishima snipes back. “You really think one puny mental connection is worth the suffering and loss he endured?”

“You’re scared,” Kuroo says solemnly. “Even after fighting a kaiju head-on, you still have the capability to be this scared.”

“ _Damn right I’m scared!_ ” Tsukishima shouts. The admission is sudden and unplanned. He snaps his jaw shut and storms away from Kuroo, throwing on his jacket roughly. _Stupid, stupid. Get in control. Don’t let him under your skin._

“You treat him like you treat your brother,” Kuroo says.

_How—_

“How do you know Akiteru?” Tsukishima turns to him, horrified. Kuroo shakes his head.

“I read your file.” He makes a dissatisfied noise. “But that’s beside the point. Your brother issues are holding you back from progressing as a pilot. And it’s more than just you—you’re holding down Yamaguchi, too. He deserves better than that. Do try to fix yourselves before the next kaiju appears and slaughters us all, would you?”

Kuroo stalks from the Kwoon Room, frustration lengthening his strides and pulling a whistle from his lips, high and piercing in a song that sounds to Tsukishima like an executioner off to a hanging. Tsukishima does not quiver at this. He does not shake.

He breaks.

 

\--------------------------------

 

Tsukishima returns to his shared quarters with the intention of being alone. He has no desire for company—he’s plummeting somewhere close to rock bottom because _Kuroo knows, he knows about Akiteru_ and it’s not like his brother is some state secret, but—

Yamaguchi is crying.

That’s not technically true. Yamaguchi is red-eyed and lying sprawled across his bed with a blank look in his eyes that immediately jumps to panic when he sees Tsukishima, then to something mysterious that Tsukishima had never seen on him before. He had clearly been crying, and heavily at that, but he still sniffs and scrubs at his eyes in a desperate attempt to appear composed.

Yamaguchi laughs.

“Oh, God,” he gasps between bitter, broken barks of laughter. “Oh God, you’re literally the last person I wanted to see. You shouldn’t see me this weak, Tsukki, just _go_.”

Tsukishima is taken aback. “I’ve seen you like this plenty of times,” he says before he can stop himself, confused at how hard Yamaguchi was pushing him away. _Was the argument still so raw in his mind that he wouldn’t even look Tsukishima in the eyes?_

He sniggers, a vicious sound that should _never_ have come from someone so pure-hearted and good (so much better than Tsukishima was) as Yamaguchi. “Is that why you’ve always treated me like glass?” he says bitterly, _tiredly_ , and _fuck_ , who is this standing in front of Tsukishima?

“I don’t treat you like glass,” Tsukishima says, puzzled. Or, he would have, had he not choked on his words with the awful, mind-altering realization that _holy shit, he did treat Yamaguchi like glass._

All those times before, all of his interactions with Yamaguchi were based on the same principle—protect him at all costs. When they were young and he never pushed Yamaguchi to do something he desperately didn’t want to, even if it was something Tsukishima wanted. When they were cadets and he annihilated the threat to Yamaguchi’s safety without any real proof that they’d hurt him. In the Drift, when he shielded the realest and rawest emotions from him, in order to be relied on. And with the Ghost Drift, the rumors that surrounded it…not even for the sake of their friendship would he have allowed Yamaguchi to be put in danger.

His whole life he had gone on thinking Yamaguchi was meek and hid behind him, when it was truly he who stepped into the line of fire and shielded him without it being asked or expected of him. And because of that, he had driven a divide between them. _The master and his dog. The soldier and his shield._

Yamaguchi watches this all play out on Tsukishima’s face with a pained smile. “You see it now, don’t you? Just once,” he whispers, “Just once, I wanted to be treated as your equal and not like some pet to heel whenever you call, to take care of like it’s a game. And yet, here I am—crying alone in a bedroom, broken and worried about _you_.”

“Worried about…me?”

“Yes,” Yamaguchi sobs, dragging his hands down his face. “After everything that happened with Suga-san, after all the pain he suffered…having to see you relive that every time you look at me is breaking. My. _Heart_.” Tsukishima’s breath catches. “I don’t know what you see when you look at me in the Drift, but whatever it is, it must be something awful because you keep pulling away from me or dropping the connection and I don’t know what to do. I keep thinking, maybe it would be better if I dropped out of the Jaeger Program, maybe if I just le—”

“Who _are_ you?” Tsukishima whispers, incredulous. It’s only for a moment, though, before the incredulity shifts to anger. Give up the Jaeger Program? After all of this? Just because he didn’t like the way Tsukishima looked at him?

“Well you wouldn’t know, would you?” Yamaguchi snaps back at him, equally as angry. “You’ve never opened up to me a day in your life! How the hell are you supposed to understand a person if you don’t trust them? It’s a _two-way_ _street_ , Tsukki!”

“I was trying to protect you!” Tsukishima snarls. “Do you _want_ to end up like Suga-san, so connected that severing the tie would leave either of us with a fate worse than death, reliving each other’s death over and over again?” He drags his fingers through his hair, frustrated and restless. “Don’t you understand? I can’t lose y—no, nevermind. You’re weaker than Suga-san or Daichi-san, you would have died.”

“What.” Yamaguchi’s voice goes deadly soft. “What did you say?”

“I _said,_ ” Tsukishima growls, “that you’re too weak to be able to handle either outc— _hrk!_ ”

Yamaguchi fists his hands in Tsukishima’s shirt collar and slams him roughly against the wall with more strength than Tsukishima was aware that he possessed. Tsukishima is faced with all the snarling wrath he never knew Yamaguchi had within him.

“ _I’m NOT weak!_ ”

His eyes are wild and hurt, and his arms are shaking so hard that he can’t even keep a solid grip on Tsukishima’s collar, but he recognizes this for what it is—not weakness, but fury. Yamaguchi has been holding in so much resentment, so much bitterness, and now he’s finally hit the breaking point to where it all comes crashing down around him. Tsukishima’s standing in the wake of a natural disaster—one that _he_ caused.

_How could he have not seen this? He’d spent so long trying to save Yamaguchi from the pain of the world that he’d forgotten what pain looked like on a person._

His fingers shake and his voice wobbles, but Yamaguchi’s conviction is strong. “I’m not weak, not anymore. I’m not Suga-san, okay, Tsukki? I’m not going to end up like that. It’s okay; you don’t have to be afraid anymore.”

_Afraid? Him?_

_Of what? Of losing Yamaguchi? Of losing him like Suga lost Daichi?_

He doesn’t know what shows on his face. It’s been a long time since Tsukishima felt it possible to show his true emotions, let them play out across his expression. Is it loss or shock or sorrow or fear? He doesn’t know. All he knows is that the hardness returns to Yamaguchi’s eyes.

“God dammit, Tsukki. You stop this. You stop this _right now_. Stop looking at me like I’m him _—I’m not Akiteru!_ ”

The last planet aligns.

Tsukishima hates to admit it, but Kuroo was right.

Perhaps it was just natural, when you’ve suffered a loss so tragic it not only re-defined your world but yourself and your personality. Losing Akiteru and unraveling his web of lies in the same moment had done that to Tsukishima. Perhaps it was just natural to seal around those last few things that mattered to you, to hold them too tight, too close, so that they couldn’t breathe. Perhaps Tsukishima had done just that—suffocated his last important person with the weight of his fear and overbearing love. An unconscious desire to save the last happiness he had left—that sunlight through the water—well, it was like Yamaguchi to see through all his inner complications so easily.

Tsukishima laughs for what feels like the first time in forever.

Yamaguchi is so surprised, he actually lets go of Tsukishima’s jacket. “W-what?” he asks, feeling self-conscious.

“Nothing,” Tsukishima sighs. “Nothing, it’s just…when did you become such a cool guy, Tadashi?”

“Tsukki…you’re…” Yamaguchi whispers, breathless.

Tsukishima reaches a hand up to his eyes, and it comes away damp. He huffs, amused. “Would you look at that. I guess it’s really me who was the weak one this whole time.” If his voice cracks a little, Yamaguchi doesn’t mention it. “I’m sorry, Tadashi. You’re completely right, as usual.”

Yamaguchi’s look of awe fades to something soft and hopeful and warm. “Your head was in the right place, Tsukki. I know that much.” He reaches up to wipe away a few fallen tears absentmindedly.

“You were always my equal,” Tsukishima murmured, not looking away from Yamaguchi’s face. “Perhaps even my better. I was so wrong about you.”

Yamaguchi shushes him and rolls his eyes. “C’mere already.” He pulls Tsukishima into a hug, curling into him like he was re-memorizing every point and curve on Tsukishima’s body. He’s as uncomfortably warm and soft as Tsukishima remembers (but this time, it’s okay). “I forgive you, Kei. You know I do.”

Tsukishima freezes.

So does Yamaguchi. He pulls away in shock, covering his mouth. “Oh no…did I…”

Tsukishima can’t answer. There’s something there, something holding him to Yamaguchi, an invisible force like Yamaguchi had taken the sunlight (peeking through the water) and pressed it tight to Tsukishima’s skin. He feels it, raw and warm and real and…

Yamaguchi jumps a foot in the air, head whipping side to side in confusion. Tsukishima, too, looks surprised. But there’s no way he could have heard him think that, right? After all, they didn’t have the…

“Ghost Drift,” he breathes softly. “Tadashi, the Ghost Drift…”

“Oh my god,” Yamaguchi covers his mouth. “No…but— _how?_ ”

He jumps again, but this time it’s just a startle. “How are you _doing_ that?”

_Thinking it, mostly. There’s a link it feels—warm, light, freckles, **home** —like you. Wait, shit!_

Yamaguchi giggles, and oh, that shouldn’t make Tsukishima’s heart spark the way it does, especially not when they’re linked like this. Yamaguchi’s blushing the prettiest shade of pink, just bringing out his freckles even more, and Tsukishima looks away with a grumble. “Where’s the off switch on this thing?”

_Oh! I think I found it! This—stardust, supernova, hot-cold burning, **lo** —Jesus! There’s no filter at all!_

_Stardust?_

Yamaguchi goes even redder and punches him in the arm. “Quiet, you,” he mutters. “I could ask you the same thing.” Tsukishima isn’t paying him any mind, though, too busy prodding at the edges of their connection, still tenuous from lack of use. It’s a light touch but a constant presence, not anything like the suffocating clutter of thoughts Tsukishima had thought it would be. Thinking to Yamaguchi involved projecting across their link, while just feeling could tell him that Yamaguchi was stable, healthier, happy—euphoric, even—and…

It’s not the red Tsukishima was expecting. It’s not even warm at all. It’s the puff of breath on a still winter’s night, the feeling of grass against one’s head as their eyes scrape the constellations. It’s the glitter of wonders too far to reach, filling his heart and his mind until he was so full of the stars that every breath on was stardust, caught in a breeze and dusted over his cheeks, close as the freckles he wore on his skin. That’s as close as he could get to a supernova— _the_ supernova—in his life anyway. Stardust.

This was Tadashi’s love for him.

Yamaguchi’s fingers touch the side of Tsukishima’s face and he nearly flinches in surprise. They’re close—too close, in body and soul—but Tsukishima can’t draw away. Not when Yamaguchi is looking at him like he did those stars.

“Not like them,” Yamaguchi whispers. “You _are_ them. Every constellation in my mind I painted there for you. You are the supernova too far and cold and hot for me to ever dream of reaching.”

“I’m here, though,” Tsukishima mumbles, trying very hard to think of something clever to say and coming up blank for once in his life. “Why do you need some stupid star metaphor when I’m right in front of you?”

Yamaguchi raises an eyebrow. “Says Mr. Tadashi-Is-Dappled-Sunlight-Through-Water. Pot, meet kettle.”

Tsukishima opens his mouth to make some kind of retort, but Yamaguchi beats him to it, sealing their lips together and twining his fingers into Tsukishima’s hair holding them so close together that Tsukishima couldn’t tell where he ended and Yamaguchi began. His hands slide to Yamaguchi’s waist instinctively, and then some kind of gear clicks in place. _This_ is where he was meant to be, for _21 years_ —just holding Yamaguchi like this.

Yamaguchi pulls away, eyes hooded and mouth still parted. He licks his lips nervously and no, Tsukishima does not look or think about them because that would transfer across the connection and—oh mother of god, Yamaguchi was already blushing.

“Was—was that okay?” he squeaks.

“Do you think I would be getting uncomfortable in my pants if it wasn’t?” Tsukishima grumbles in reply.

Yamaguchi’s eyes go wide. “What?” And then Tsukishima feel the phantom presence of his partner reaching for him across the Drift, checking to make sure he was okay, checking to see—

“ _Fuck!_ ”

Tsukishima’s grip on Yamaguchi unconsciously tightens as he _uses the Ghost Drift to see if Tsukishima had a boner_. Yamaguchi yelps as he is accidentally introduced physically to the proof that yes, _psychically_ poking at his dick would turn him on. “O-oh…” Yamaguchi stutters. Where was that Casanova from only ten minutes or so earlier?

“That’s right, _oh_ ,” Tsukishima hisses. “Watch how you use that thing.”

All of a sudden, Yamaguchi bursts out laughing. He’s physically shaking in Tsukishima’s arms, snickering against his collarbone, and Tsukishima would have been well on his way to limp as a wet towel if it weren’t for how carefree and angelic Yamaguchi’s laugh was. “What?” Tsukishima sighed. “What the hell is so funny?”

“It’s just,” Yamaguchi grins wildly. “Here we are. After all that pain and all the misunderstanding and fighting, here we are, screwing around with a psychic force we don’t understand, and I’m in your arms, and I _kissed_ you, and…” Yamaguchi’s smile turns so tender Tsukishima considers tearing up again. “And I love you so very much, Kei.”

_Well, how was he supposed to top that?_

Tsukishima rolls his eyes. “Yeah, whatever, Star Boy. I’m just a bit fond of you, too.” And then he kisses Yamaguchi again, pulling him up as he does so that Yamaguchi can wrap his arms around Tsukishima’s shoulders and hold him there, licking into his mouth with a hunger unrecognizable to Tsukishima from any past Yamaguchi.

But it’s there. This is who Yamaguchi is—has always been—Tsukishima just never saw it. His sunlight burns so hot that all the water he danced through dries up, leaving only a barren desert and a starving body, feeling for him like he’s the last body of water on earth. Yamaguchi _craves_ him, craves this contact that he’s been denied because of Tsukishima’s stubbornness—physically, emotionally, spiritually.

The Ghost Drift only amplifies the give and the receive. For every desperate rub of Yamaguchi’s body against Tsukishima’s, the pleasure that burns through him bounces back over the bond to Yamaguchi, secondhand. And for every burning press of Tsukishima’s hands over the smooth, powerful muscle up and down Yamaguchi’s back, he felt it just as much as Yamaguchi did, arching against him. There was just too much—a sensory overload neither of them knew what to do with except _keep going_.

“I want you to fuck me,” Yamaguchi purrs against Tsukishima’s ear when he finally relinquishes his mouth in favor of tracing his neck and collarbone with his lips. Tsukishima nearly bites down on Yamaguchi where he was kissing him.

“ _Jesus_ , Tadashi.”

Yamaguchi _whines_ , petulant, and Tsukishima nips at his ear in warning. “You are the least romantic person I know and that’s coming from me, the actual least romantic pers—hnnggg, that’s cheating, Tadashi.”

“Is it, though?” Yamaguchi challenges, wrapping his legs around one of Tsukishima’s and humping him, rubbing at Tsukishima’s crotch in the process. His side of the Ghost Drift is all solar flares and blinding light—Tsukishima’s never felt so wanted in his life.

“How long have you felt like this?” he murmurs.

Yamaguchi’s answer is sighed into his ear once more. “Since high school, I think.” Tsukishima blinks in surprise, and Yamaguchi feels it across the Drift. “Shocked? Don’t be. You’ve always been gorgeous and charismatic, even if your personality is rough around the edges. I could never keep my eyes off you.”

Tsukishima wishes he had an answer like this for Yamaguchi, even though he doesn’t ask. He never found it odd that in high school and college and in the Jaeger Program there was never anyone who interested him. Yamaguchi had always been enough. Others made friends—Yamaguchi included—but Tsukishima never saw the point when the one who knew all there was to know about him was so conveniently located close to him. His love was not the cloudless night of stars Yamaguchi gave him, but a nest a vines and adders, so twisted he couldn’t tell where his obsession stopped and love began.

 _That’s not true,_ Yamaguchi sighs into his mind. _You showed me how you saw me when we first Drifted. That day I became ‘Tadashi’. That is your love for me, and it is enough. We can manage that adder nest together._

“You’re over-thinking things again,” Yamaguchi smiles, breaking from Tsukishima to tug him back to his bed, one hand clasped in his. “Don’t worry about what you have and haven’t given me—now that we’re on equal footing I won’t hesitate to tell you what you’re doing wrong.” Tsukishima makes a face and Yamaguchi laughs. “Let’s just do something for us right now.”

And with that, he removes his shirt with almost practiced ease. Yamaguchi is a constellation himself—freckles running from the sprinkling on his shoulders down his back and arms. He’s shy and slow, pulling at Tsukishima’s jacket and shirt, even though they’re both still turned on. When Yamaguchi finally removes Tsukishima’s clothing, his breath catches in time with the skip of his heart.

“It’s not like you haven’t seen me shirtless before,” Tsukishima points out, too soft to ruin the moment.

Yamaguchi shakes his head, running delicate fingertips along every muscle and bone of Tsukishima’s exposed chest, giving him goosebumps enough that he grumbles and has to fight down the urge to cross his arms defensively.

_Didn’t he say once, that all he could trust was his skin and blood, muscles and bone?_

_But what of this gentle soul, touching him and holding him like he was something to be adored? What of him?_

_Ah, well, the heart was a muscle, wasn’t it._

_Kei, that was really gay,_ Yamaguchi snorts, ruining it.

“Oi,” Tsukishima says aloud, met by a snicker from Yamaguchi.

“C’mon already,” Yamaguchi laughs. “I’ve been waiting at least seven years for you to jump my bones, the _least_ we could do is climb in bed.” He flops backwards onto the bed, fixing Tsukishima with his best ‘come hither’ look that just makes him roll his eyes and pull off his workout sweats. Yamaguchi’s eyes dance and he does the same, lying on his back, looking expectant. Tsukishima stares at him blankly and Yamaguchi sighs, exasperated, but then does this thing involving arching his back and curling his toes while looking desperately at Tsukishima, and he’s on him in a second.

Yamaguchi presses up to kiss him, locking their mouths together while his hands run wild over Tsukishima’s body, feeling every inch of skin like he’d wanted to for years. Tsukishima groans at the flares spiking through the Ghost Drift and grinds down on Yamaguchi hard enough for him to gasp against Tsukishima’s mouth. Then he’s pulling Tsukishima down, down until they’re flat against each other, hard-ons rubbing maddeningly, but just not enough friction to really get them going.

Yamaguchi grinds up against him, hissing in pleasure when he gets the contact he needs. Again. _Again_. Ag—

“Tadashi.”

Tsukishima’s voice is dead serious. “What’s wrong, Kei?” Yamaguchi feels across the link but there’s nothing out of the ordinary emotionally or physically.

“…My glasses are fogged.”

Yamaguchi leans back in disbelief but sure enough, Tsukishima’s glasses were completely coated in condensation. Sighing, he pulls them from Tsukishima’s face and gives him a dry look.

“I know you’re making a face at me,” Tsukishima says. “But I can’t see shit.”

Yamaguchi wraps his legs around Tsukishima’s waist and in an impressive feat of strength, manages to knock him on his side and then climb to sit on top of him. “What are you doing?” Tsukishima asks, but then Yamaguchi moves his finger in swirling patterns right above Tsukishima’s boxers and his jaw snaps shut.

“You are literally impossible,” Yamaguchi accuses. “But lucky for you, you’ve got me.”

And then, defying the impossible in Tsukishima’s mind, Yamaguchi strips down to nothing.

Tsukishima thinks of water and deserts and solar flares for a fleeting moment before he lets go of the metaphors and the Ghost Drift to just admire how beautiful Yamaguchi is. He’s biting his lip, all fidgety and nervous because even though he pretended to be all put together, he was still just a young pilot in bed with the boy he’d loved for seven odd years, and he didn’t want to do anything wrong (impossible; Yamaguchi was incapable of being anything but perfect, Tsukishima was convinced of it now). And when he reached a hand to run along the outside of his thigh, Yamaguchi’s dick twitched in interest and Tsukishima nearly fell upon him right then and there.

Instead, he brushes strong slender fingers over the head and down the shaft, making Yamaguchi tremble more visibly then before, mouth falling open so he can pant. Tsukishima strokes him slow and soft, just so he can watch Yamaguchi fall apart piece by piece. _This much is mine,_ Tsukishima thinks to himself. _This memory and this image belongs to me forever._

“Tsukki, Tsukki,” Yamaguchi reverts back to the nickname he gave him as a child. “With you, Tsukki, I wanna…” Tsukishima shimmies out of his own boxers, equally as hard from all the Drift feedback he received from Yamaguchi. “You touch me, I’ll touch you,” he murmurs, reaching down to stoke Tsukishima who bites back a yelp at the warmth and softness of Yamaguchi’s touch.

“Together,” Tsukishima murmurs in reply, and they do. The rhythm that they settle into reverberates through the Ghost Drift, pounding against their heads and in their hearts. Each touch and jolt of pleasure is a note struck down a hallway, echoing just to bounce back as sweet-sounding as before. And when they come—united in one body as they were in one Jaeger—Tsukishima sees constellations patterned in the depths of the ocean he feels for Yamaguchi, as powerful and vast as the universe.

“I love you,” he whispers to Yamaguchi as he collapses on top of him, spent. Tsukishima only gets a satisfied hum in return and an affectionate nudge across the Drift, but it is enough. He traces patterns in the freckles on Yamaguchi’s back and writes their names across his skin until he wakes and complains about the mess between them, pulling Tsukishima with him to the shower, sunlight once more.

 

\--------------------------------------

 

Ukai doesn’t want to do this. He doesn’t want the prickling of anxiety on the back of his neck or the nervous shifting of Takeda at his side, swiping his hands on his dress pants. He doesn’t want the memory of Saeko glaring him down, a certain uneasiness in her expression and a _just who the hell did you transfer in, Marshal Ukai, **sir**_. He doesn’t want _them_ in his private quarters when he feels like he’s being played, but better the enemy you know than the one you don’t. And he’s not about to get friendly with the kaiju.

“Come in,” he says gruffly to the cheerful knock at his door. Kuroo and Kenma step in, too light on their feet to be human. They’re shrouded in shadow, but somehow he can still see the whites of their discerning, feline eyes.

_(No, is that—reptilian? A blink of his eyes and Kenma’s chases the image from his mind, but the air of suspense and threat hangs heavy nonetheless.)_

Kuroo stuffs his hands in the pockets of his sweats, mirroring Kenma, who is buried in their jacket. They’re calmer than any personnel had any right to be, being called to the Marshal’s presence specifically. Their posture suggests boredom and a lack of concern that makes his blood pressure rise for reasons he can’t quite pinpoint. “You wanted to see us, Marshal Ukai, sir?” Kuroo prompts politely.

“That’s right. I called you here to discuss your reputations as a team,” he replies, terse.

Kuroo laughs breathlessly and takes a seat on the couch in front of the Marshal and Takeda-sensei, Kenma following close at his side. “Cutting right to the chase, are you? You seem awful suspicious of us, Ukai-san. No need to be one edge. We don’t bite,” he offers.

“Should we have reason to be suspicious?” Ukai growls, and Kuroo shrugs simply.

“Depends on what the rumor mill is spreading nowadays, I suppose,” Kuroo murmurs.

“This really isn’t the time for joking around, Kuroo-kun,” Takeda interjects, frowning. Kuroo eyes him with interest.

“No…I suppose it isn’t. Lay it on us, Marshal. What crimes are Kenma and I here for?” Kuroo leans back as Ukai and Takeda lean forward.

“There are several accusations relating to the quality of your performance as pilots,” Ukai begins. “For one, your Jaeger is very slow to get started and enter the battle. Although you’re technically functioning on all cylinders, your Jaeger—deigned for maneuverability and speed—moves cautiously at a crawl. Instead of charging into the fray and leading the attack, you hang at the back until the kaiju has been engaged by you auxiliary teams, almost as if you’re using them as a shield. Because of this, you’ve earned yourselves the nickname the ‘cat-naps’, since you appear to be sleeping at the beginning of combat.”

(Kuroo and Kenma’s eyes flare in recognition, the smirk spreading across Kuroo’s face even further and Kenma’s attention honing in on the Marshal with frightening focus.)

“You’ve been accused of being poor leaders, but you’ve never lost an auxiliary team, and once you actually rally into battle, Scrapper Nine is swift and adroit in his takedown. Every swipe of the kaiju’s paw, every acidic belch, every flying leap at your back is avoided. Scrapper Nine hasn’t been touched by mechanics besides the usual tune-ups in years. It’s uncanny how well your team can predict the kaiju’s movements. To some, it’s almost as if you can read the kaiju’s mind.”

“Oh my,” Kuroo purrs. “Wouldn’t that be quite something?” Kenma hides a tiny smile behind their sleeve-covered hand.

Takeda shifts again, brushing against Ukai, and he grits his teeth. _The enemy you know, the enemy you know._ “Your duo—your _Jaeger_ —makes the other teams uncomfortable and nervous. That’s why you were sent to us so quickly, is it not?” Two amused nods. “Naturally, you’d think we’d have some questions for you,” Ukai snorts.

“Ah, but aren’t you somewhat of a suspicious character yourself, Marshal Ukai?” Kuroo asks innocently.

“Really. What makes you say that, Kuroo?” Ukai disguises his growing anger with a feathery-light tone.

Kuroo’s eyes slide to Takeda. “It’s a bit odd that the head scientist would be invited to meetings about secrets of the state, don’t you think? Isn’t this supposed to a meeting between _military_ men?” Ukai’s lip twitches and Takeda goes stock still.

“Favoring a single official over others and bending the rules for him…well, people might get…ideas…about the nature of your relationship,” Kuroo suggests, smug poker face in place.

Takeda blushes bright red against his will, coughing and covering his face with his arm in a fruitless attempt to hide his reaction, but Ukai keeps his cool. “Takeda-sensei is not just the head scientist at this base, but also one of the leading biologists hired to work on military strategy in combating kaiju when they first broke the surface of the Pacific. He’s been privy to military secrets and worked behind the scenes of the war for longer than you’ve had your eye on a Jaeger, _kid,_ ” he growls.

Kuroo laughs pleasantly and holds up his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright, you’ve got me. Although I thought you weren’t going to beat around the bush.”

Ukai frowns. “What do you mean?”

Kuroo leans forward, hands settling splayed and curved like talons on the coffee table separating the two parties. With him, he brings all the intimidation and pressure of his aura, tilting his head with almost childish innocence. “Aren’t you going to ask us about it?”

“I…don’t know what you mean,” Ukai stumbles over his words.

Kuroo slams his fists on the table. “Oh please! As if you haven’t heard it before! Ask us! _Ask us if we’ve Drifted with a kaiju!_ ”

And there it was, laid out for all the world to see. Takeda and Ukai take twin sharp inhales of disbelief. Yes, of course they’d heard the rumors. But they never believed them. How reckless was it, to Drift with a force beyond human comprehension? How foolish would someone have to be to do something like that? And yet…here they were, the two fear-inducing, cat-eyed pilots that were exiled from their own home base.

“D-did…did you…?” Takeda whispers, caving to his scientific curiosity.

“It was a team effort,” Kenma says softly. “It wasn’t much—just a Category Two—but it was still kicking after a few good shots from Scrapper. Couldn’t do any harm, it was just…there. Dying slowly.”

“Some scientific radicals from abroad were boarded in the Tokyo base for the year,” Kuroo adds. “They’d always believed that we could learn the secret to defeating the kaiju by becoming one with their minds. It was crazy, of course, but they had a method and a plan. Kenma and I—we got curious.”

“It was dead by the time the team got there,” Kenma murmurs. “But it still had some brain activity that could be used…or something. I volunteered to do it. The team stuck a neural spike in the kaiju’s secondary brain and then I Drifted with it.”

“ _Why?_ ” Takeda’s voice is full of horror.

When Kenma meets his eyes, it is not as the quiet, antisocial pilot who avoided contact with anyone outside of Kuroo. It is as another being.

Takeda knows this, looking at Kenma. With them, they carry not only the power of their experience and their authority as a veteran pilot, but the weight of wisdom. Insight into another universe incomprehensible to any human being laid nestled inside their brain, constellation upon constellation of raw _knowledge_. In Kenma’s eyes, Takeda sees the stars. And he is terrified.

“I know things,” Kenma whispers. “Things that we would have never known without a joining of the minds. The Anteverse, the Precursors—I have seen them. And they have seen me. I’m a fugitive, Takeda-sensei. I’m running from the Creators, and they are looking for me.”

The room feels too dark and too quiet. The hairs on the back of Ukai’s neck are now standing straight up in alarm, adrenaline pumping its way through his blood. He hasn’t felt fear like this in quite some time. But then again, he hasn’t ever been faced with a human time bomb, a beacon calling the kaiju to earth before, either. “What do you mean they’re _looking_ for you?”

“Kenma’s wisdom comes with a price, unfortunately,” Kuroo sighs. “His mind is linked with the kaiju’s hivemind—he literally has a connection to the Anteverse. But because of that, whenever he Drifts, he’s in the eye of the Precursors, and you could imagine they’re not too keen on having a human looking into their business. That’s why our Drift is so lopsided—Kenma has to focus all his attention on alternating between peering into the kaiju’s mind and blocking out the Anteverse, while I carry out his orders. Kaiju already have an affinity for finding us and fighting us; this is our only way of combating them and protecting ourselves.”

“You need to get away from here,” Takeda says quickly. “You need to get away from Jaegers and Drifting and _the_ _Pacific Rim_ before they find you and start focusing their attack on _us_.”

“And now you see why we weren’t too popular back home,” Kuroo replies. “Not that very many people knew what we did.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Kenma interrupts. “You don’t know this yet, but you need us. We have knowledge Azumane is only guessing at, and without the combination of our forces, the kaiju are going to win. The double event has already occurred—that means the Precursors are preparing for a final assault. There’s no time for fear, only action.”

“He’s right,” Kuroo agrees. “That’s why we’ll be taking over tactical effective immediately. Yell at us about insubordination all you want, Ukai-san, but we’ve already called in Bokuto and Akaashi after assessing your pilots and deeming them unfit for our operation.”

“What—what _operation?_ ” Ukai snarls, throwing his hands up. “Who do you think you are?”

“The final assault, Marshal,” Kuroo answers softly. “We’re going to cut this war off at the source. We’d like to have your support, of course.”

Ukai and Takeda exchange anxious glances. Ukai exhales slowly and pinches the bridge of his nose. “We’ll discuss this amongst ourselves and get back to you with a verdict,” he compromises. “You don’t even have an _inkling_ of a right to demand anything of you higher-ups, but if what you say is all true, then we have to do some serious reconsidering. You’re excused. Swiftly.” The two pilots bow politely and leave as silently as they entered, just shadows that walked and talked. Ukai doesn’t meet Takeda’s frantic glance but watches their backs as they go, conflicted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOW TRACKING #BFMTIAS ON TUMBLR!!  
> twit: [**@sleepybokuto**](https://twitter.com/sleepybokuto) tumblr: [**setter-kun**](http://setter-kun.tumblr.com/)


	9. there's a certain fear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't look at the date of my last update. i don't have any excuse prepared. it's 4am but this chapter is DONE and 10000 words longer than intended. 
> 
> okay. so here's the part of the author's note where i make a confession. see all those nice, popular ships up there?? well, i also happen to have a HUGE soft spot for rare pairs, and this chapter is filled with all kinds of queerplatonic, one-night-stand, and pure friendship and admiration types of relationships. the named ships are still endgame, but others will certainly feature. accept me for who i am, friends.
> 
> [ **FIRST VOLUME OF THE OFFICIAL BFMTIAS SOUNDTRACK** :](http://8tracks.com/bromosexuals/glowing-eyes-silver-night-i) covering the opening theme to Tyrant Omega's reveal
> 
> chapter title from ["Fearless (250 & Dark Stars)"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xg03IV-S9io) by Falling Up

 

There’s nothing wrong with their lodgings, technically. They’re nicer than the ones in Tokyo and nicer than what transfers usually get—only a few mysterious stains in the carpet and a fine layer of dust over countertops. There’s even a porthole; clouded as the view is, it’s still nice to see the muted grey of the ocean. Kuroo wouldn’t take issue with their quarters at all, actually, if it weren’t for the fact that he had been cooped up in this room for two hours, pacing, and Kenma was _late_.

_Three clustered stains on the ground. Eight scratches on the metal of the ceiling, hatched. Three pipes running to the bathroom and one overlapping. Ugly floral couch, chipped wooden breakfast nook, laminate countertops, off-white square tiles…_

Kuroo lists off the details of their room in his head, trying to stay calm, but he’s whipped himself into a worried mess, barely keeping that frantic energy under control by reciting prime numbers in his head and taking stock of his surroundings. Kenma’s _never_ late. He keeps his mind busy, drumming fingers against his thigh as he moves mindlessly about the enclosed space restlessly. What he really wants to do is run or fight—stretching his body out would do him good, make his lungs and muscles burn so that he hurt all over, _then_ he wouldn’t be able to worry about Kenma.

Kenma, who happened to be just fine. Kuroo could feel them anywhere in the base and even beyond. Kenma’s heartbeat was safe and steady, no flash of emotions or stress in their thoughts, just that easy amiable gloss over their mind that they got around the orange-haired shrimp. That’s enough to calm him down, still his pacing. Kuroo throws himself into a wooden chair, creaking at the strain. He sprawls when he sits, legs braced wide and stretched out, long arms looped over the edge of the chair or onto their tiny kitchen table. Usually, Kenma would kick at Kuroo’s leg with a huff, quiet disapproval of the way he took up a space. Usually. Kuroo starts tapping again.

He knows he’s grappling at Kenma’s near intangible consciousness with the weight of his own to the point that it _has to be_ annoying, but Kenma isn’t pushing at him. They’re taking their time coming back to their shared quarters, most likely chatting with Hinata. Curious, Kuroo probes at the conversation, trying to get far enough into Kenma’s head that he can read their thoughts before they speak them. _That_ gets him a reaction, a solid shove that boots him from Kenma’s immediate consciousness. Kuroo sighs and leans his head all the way back, muttering something along the lines of _can’t blame me for pushing when you’re this late._

Kenma finds him like that, a bedraggled and sad lump, the aftermath of a hurricane of anxiety. “Oh, Kuro,” they murmur. “I’m only late by five minutes, you didn’t need to worry so much.” Kuroo sits back up slowly, smiling pleasantly for Kenma, but his leg is still jiggling. Kenma eyes it, and he stops.

“It’s okay,” Kuroo lies breezily, “what were you and Hinata talking about for so long?”

Kenma raises an eyebrow at Kuroo’s manufactured nonchalance and the contrast of quelled fear in his gut and on his mind. But Kuroo blinks innocently at them, and Kenma drops it. Kuroo would never push something vital to their relationship to the side, no matter what it was, if he couldn’t handle it himself. Kenma trusts him to take care of everything up to there, and if it becomes a problem, they won’t let it rest until it’s fixed with the kind of relentlessness Kenma reserved for Kuroo and Kuroo alone.

Well. They’d end up sleeping off the stress of forcing Kuroo to talk about it for days to come after the fact, but the point was, Kuroo was a big boy. He could manage his anxiety just fine on his own. Kenma pads to the sofa, wrinkling their nose at the pattern, and flops back on it, content. Kuroo follows not a minute later, burying his face in Kenma’s thigh and grinning like a loon. Kenma doesn’t even bother to try and push him away, drawing fingers through his hair mindlessly, scratching at Kuroo’s scalp in a way that has him wiggling his toes and humming in an almost-purr. _I’m sorry_ , Kenma says through the contact, lips curling up at the edges when they manage to muss his hair into even more of a rat’s nest.

“Tell me,” Kuroo whines petulantly, and Kenma tugs at his hair, earning them a laugh. “C’mon, this is supposed to be an official meeting. Our quarters are debugged now—I made sure of that.” Honestly, it’s probably the only place they’re not being tracked and watched like hawks by an assembly of techs reporting straight to the Marshal. The provocation had been brave and necessary for getting their way, but striking first meant that they had to wait for the Marshal to strike _back_ , which could be much harsher than just a high level of surveillance. They couldn’t waste valuable time to themselves. They needed to get organized.

Kenma understands this just as well as Kuroo. They want to share, but… “Shouyou just…really loves piloting,” Kenma sighs. “He talks about that and volleyball most of the time…it’s nice, though, not having to talk. Shouyou can tell when I’m uncomfortable and when I have something on his mind. We’re Drift compatible,” they add as an afterthought. “But that means I don’t get much information. Sorry, Kuro.”

It’s times like these that Kuroo finds he’s as grateful as Kenma that their Ghost Drift is of an unusual variety. Theirs hangs around them, thick as soup, bleeding into the outside surroundings and the minds of others. Words and thoughts come illustrated with images and half-memories unbidden. The strain of their communication is eased by the heaviness of their link. ‘Terrifying’ and ‘unapproachable’ are both names other pilots have called their aura, but that’s just fine by both of them. Kenma’s not wont to be engaged in more social activities than they’re forced into, and Kuroo still has that underlying paranoia at every turn of the corner, every busy street, every cast shadow—a persistent fear that hasn’t left him since Kenma Drifted with a kaiju.

_(As much as Kenma scares people like the Marshal and the other pilots, they also scare Kuroo a little bit. The first time he felt the lingering touch of the Precursors’ presence in their Drift, he couldn’t sleep for two days straight. He heard their whispers in every background noise, saw flickers of their indescribable forms in the corners of his eyes. He looked over his shoulders for months afterwards, jumped at sudden noises. He still has to fight down the urge even now, his calm tempered by years of self-discipline._

_When he asked Kenma about it, though, Kenma only shrugged and agreed. **They’re around,** they agreed. **Here and there, sometimes coming after me, sometimes just drifting. It’s just the hivemind.**_

_Just the hivemind. Like that was normal, like that was okay._

_Kenma stopped seeming normal or safe or human to Kuroo, after that.)_

Kuroo promptly turns and stuffs his face into Kenma’s stomach, wrapping his arms around them, trying to shake the weight of the memory from his mind. Kenma could already tell something was up; they had stopped in their ministrations and tilted their head down, hair falling into their face. Kuroo peeks up at cat eyes (no, not the eyes of a monster, those mechanics didn’t know what the _fuck_ they were talking about) and sighs at their prompting gaze.

“I still get nervous when we’re parted for too long,” Kuroo confesses. “The Precursors—they’re not stupid, they could find a way, build a smaller organism to kill you—”

Kenma shakes their head. “Shouyou and I were in the Shatterdome. Even if they were able to do such a thing, I’m guarding us, and they would attack the Jaegers first to cripple the resistance, anyway.”

“You’re so important,” Kuroo whispers desperately. “You’re the only reason this revolution of ours stands a chance. If they take you, we’ll have nothing.” Kenma could be so carefree about the Precursors; like they weren’t itching to gets their nasty, Anteverse tentacles around Kenma’s throat and squeeze the life out of them.

“I know,” Kenma assures Kuroo softly. “I know. I’ll be more careful.”

Kuroo allows himself to be comforted by the sincerity of Kenma’s aura (Kuroo’d beaten those guys until they called _him_ the monster, anyway). Being bonded to Kenma like he was, Kuroo could still feel the decay at the edge of Kenma’s consciousness where the Anteverse had touched them, but like the quarters they were housed in, it was all just part of the deal.

“We should go over what we know so far,” Kenma suggests. “Since you meddled with Tsukishima, there’s been a shifting of power. We might have to rethink the finer details.” They resume petting Kuroo’s hair and he slumps back, mind set on the plan.

“Hmm, well, Tsukishima proved himself more capable than he appeared at first—he won’t need to be replaced. Together with Yamaguchi, Gold Strike _should_ be more functional than it was with that last disaster of a simulation. They can run outer course, probably, with that long-range weapon.”

“Tsukishima can aim,” Kenma confirms. “Hinata told me that they were great shots.”

“Good,” Kuroo murmurs, “means that we can focus on flanking with Kou and Keiji while Hinata and Kageyama run the center and back. Omega is as strong as us, if not stronger, actually. I might put the rookies on flank and Kou in the middle…they’ve got more experience.”

“But Omega is better suited to going one-on-one with a kaiju, and could react fast enough to keep from being destroyed by a surprise back attack,” Kenma points out. They pause. “That’s four. Who’s going to spearhead our formation?”

Kuroo winces. And therein lies the problem. With only four teams handy and one already being called in as a transfer, Kuroo’s hands are tied. He won’t get away with calling in another team, but they’re short a Jaeger. He’d really been counting on Daichi and Koushi to be around long enough to help them. The double event makes him nervous—was this just the next step in the Precursors’ plan, or were they making a more concentrated effort to seek out Kenma? If they had to speed up the implementation of their counterattack, things could get ugly quickly without the fifth team.

Kuroo sighs, long and irritated. “I don’t want to jump without a fifth team. I really don’t want to. But at this point in time we don’t have a choice to play it safe. We’ve got to pick a candidate for the crux of the operation, get them trained, get ready for the next opportunity we have to put it into action. There won’t be many left.”

“I told you, I could—” Kenma protests, but Kuroo shuts them down.

“No way. We haven’t the slightest clue what would happen to you if you tried it,” Kuroo disputes. He pauses. “You would probably die.” Kenma purses their lips but doesn’t respond. They know it’s true.

“Anyway,” Kuroo says in a softer tone, “I’ve been looking for possibilities after comparing their files with their abilities in the flesh. Suga’s the best and most obvious choice—he can’t pilot, so we won’t be losing someone valuable to a Jaeger team, should something go wrong. He has nothing left to lose. The other possibility is Yamaguchi. He’s fought his way to his position, so he would be able to withstand…” Kenma’s shaking their head.

“Suga isn’t a half-bad idea, but I think he’d be overwhelmed. The mental strain of losing your partner is…crippling. We need someone with ability, stamina, and more willpower than Lev had to get Yaku’s internship. We need Shouyou.”

Kuroo cocks his head to the side as much as he can on Kenma’s lap. “Hinata? I know you’re fond of him, but is he really the right one?”

Kenma nods. “He has competed in the Drift against Kageyama and Omega, both separately and together. He knows how to Drift now, so his sync scores will improve if we link him with someone else. Kuro…he’s taken dominance from Kageyama.”

“It’s dangerous, you know,” Kuroo reminds them quietly. “You’re okay with that?”

“Yes,” Kenma says, confident. “Shouyou is important to me, but…the fate of the world is more important.” They brush a strand of hair from their face and Kuroo sits up.

“I trust your judgment,” Kuroo yields. “You’ll have to set him up right away. We have no time to spare when we’re not even sure what kind of timeline we have to work with. You’re going to be solely in charge of training him for the operation and convincing him to go along with it; he’ll definitely trust you over me. Is all this acceptable?”

Kenma nods again. “Yes. He’s curious. He’ll want to understand me.”

“Curiosity killed the cat.” Kuroo’s grin is half-malicious, half-teasing.

“But satisfaction brought it back,” Kenma adds. “Shouyou can handle it.”

Kuroo stands up and stretches, popping his shoulder blades and making Kenma wince and flick him across the Ghost Drift. Kuroo pokes him back before freezing. “Mm, we have a little bit more on the logistical side to take care of,” he grumbles, annoyed at the realization. “With any luck, the oddball mathematician-scientist pair will be able to meet our needs. Nishinoya seems eccentric enough to have the equipment we need. If not,” Kuroo winces, “we’ll need to call in Yaku and Lev. That’s the last thing I want.”

“You talk to Nishinoya, then,” Kenma suggests, hopping off the couch, too. “I’ll handle Azumane.”

But Kuroo’s concentration is gone from the conversation, fixed on a distant point outside and amongst the grey-blue ocean mist. The eagerness floating across their bond is nearly palpable. He’s shivering, goosebumps covering his skin, which can only mean one thing—

Kuroo hisses softly. “ _They_ will be arriving soon to iron out the kinks in our team. Then we’ll be an army the Precursors need to fear.”

 

\-----------------------------------

 

Hinata finds rather quickly that, be it consciously or unconsciously, Kenma’s been spending a lot of time with him.

It’s cute, he thinks. Like a stray cat trying to weasel its way into your home without looking like it’s trying. Kenma doesn’t make a big deal of sticking to Hinata’s side, it kind of just happens. They don’t have much of an affinity for people, Hinata notices. Kenma is the first to head for their quarters after a meeting—they keep their eyes cast down and ease themselves out of social situations as politely and quickly as they can. Kenma’s only really got Hinata and Kuroo at the base, and Hinata imagines that it must get tiring to deal with Kuroo 24/7.

So he takes Kenma under his wing. They were fast friends from the beginning, but now Hinata feels a stirring a familial affection to accompany his fondness for Kenma. They remind Hinata, at times, of Natsu—wide-eyed and unsure of the world, grateful for his protection and affection. Not that Kenma—taller _and_ stronger than Hinata—needs his protection, but they at least seem pleased to see Hinata every day.

It starts out with the mess hall. Everyone remembers that high school cafeteria anxiety of not knowing where to sit or who to avoid or even how to get lunch in the first place. And yes, maybe Kuroo looks smug and relaxed, slouching with hands tucked into the pockets of his uniform, chatting with a cute mechanic by the looks of it, but that was not to speak of Kenma’s fidgeting glance and quick blinks. They look completely out of their element, that much is obvious to Hinata, and he flags them down. Kenma straightens up immediately, locking eyes on Hinata and straying from Kuroo’s side to squeeze next to Hinata at the edge of the table. (Kageyama isn’t too pleased by this development; stiffening on Hinata’s other side. He’s even less pleased when Kuroo trails after Kenma and slides into the seat on the other side of the table next to Yamaguchi, but not quite as displeased as Tsukishima, who wears an impressive scowl and burns holes in Kuroo’s side. If Kuroo is bothered by it, he does a fantastic job hiding it.)

Hinata makes an effort to cheerfully ignore the two hostile pilots by including Kenma into the discussion about, of all things, _Pokémon,_ using a spoon to accentuate his points with stabbing and whirling motions. Hinata has great instincts or else he’s just lucky—Kenma is quite knowledgeable on the topic and chimes in every now and then between Yamaguchi and Hinata’s enthusiastic conversation. Even Kuroo throws in a comment or two when he’s not provoking Kageyama and Tsukishima for a reaction or leaning back dangerously to chat with the table behind him.

“Why don’t you just _move_ if they’re so fascinating?” Tsukishima grumbles once, under his breath, and Kuroo falls off the bench from laughing so hard. They draw the attention of the entire mess hall, silent except for Kuroo’s hollering, and Tsukishima is forced to stab angrily at his vegetables, completely red and embarrassed.

But talks about Pokémon turn into talks about favorite games, which turn into talks about favorite gaming consoles, which turn into Hinata’s shout of delight that Kenma brought their Xbox from Tokyo. The wanderer that he is, Kuroo doesn’t protest when later Hinata bursts into his and Kenma’s quarters, demanding that Kuroo leave them alone for their “friend-date.” He does, however, make it difficult for Hinata to physically push him out of the room, straining to force the significantly taller pilot from the vicinity.

With Kuroo removed, there’s nothing to stop Hinata and Kenma from playing Minecraft for eight hours straight except their own physical limits. By the time Kuroo returns to check in on them, he finds Hinata slouched against Kenma’s body, drooling on himself, while Kenma has their head thrown back against the couch, breathing deeply. They both still have the controllers in their hands and nothing to show on the screen but a few half-built houses and more lava than Kuroo is sure should be above ground.

Hinata doesn’t spend every waking moment with Kenma, but he makes an effort to hang out with them as much as he can—not because he feels bad for Kenma, but because they’re genuinely fun and have a great competitive spirit without falling into the danger of cockiness and self-righteousness. Hinata _likes_ playing video games like the world isn’t ending and he and Kenma haven’t been forced by circumstance to fight lethal aliens when they should be in college. It’s nice to feel young again. (They never play and war-themed games or ones that involve shooting. Both Hinata and Kenma know the feeling of pulling a trigger and watching something die because of it, and under the initial glory, there’s always that stubborn whisper in the back of their heads saying _murderer murderer murderer_.)

Kenma’s also not much for exercise. They decline Hinata’s offers to go to the gym or the track or even the Kwoon Room. Hinata can let that go. Some teams preferred to work out together, exclusively. Daichi and Koushi were like that, mostly for the purpose of keeping an eye on each other’s condition and making sure that the other wasn’t straining himself too far by using the Ghost Drift. However, there’s no reason that Kenma can’t come help Hinata out with volleyball. All they have to do is throw the ball to him! He can practice spiking it down or receiving (ick) on his own; he just needs someone to toss the ball to him.

“Shouyou…I’m not too sure about this…what if I’m bad at it?” Kenma frets as Hinata tugs them towards the gymnasium, where a volleyball net has been set up today. It’s a perfect opportunity, and Hinata has a willing victim.

He laughs at Kenma’s worrying. “Oh, that takes me back,” he sighs. “I used to have to strong-arm Izumin or Kouji into tossing to me before I joined an actual volleyball team. Don’t worry about it—there’s nothing to tossing in, at least!”

Kenma tilts their head to the side. “You were on a volleyball team?”

“Mmhmm!” Hinata confirms. “We weren’t particularly good or anything, though. I still love the sport.” Kenma stops resisting as much. Hinata turns to Kenma just before they step inside the gym. “You’re really okay with doing this, right? I won’t force you.”

Kenma gives him a small nod, embarrassed. “Kuro tells me I need to get out more, anyway.”

Kenma’s not half-bad. They get down the timing of the toss pretty easily, throwing to Hinata to receive or spike as he calls for it, but makes no effort to chase after the ball if it rolls away. They get pretty bored after twenty minutes of the same repeated motion, and half of Hinata just wants to laugh because usually, Kenma is too conscious of their surroundings to act so blatantly uninterested. The glassy-eyed stare and lazy tracking of the ball breaks Hinata and he giggles, startling Kenma.

“Sorry,” he apologizes. “This _is_ pretty boring for non-volleyball players.”

Kenma’s cheeks turn pink. “Ah, no, it’s fine,” they stumble. “I don’t mind.”

Hinata gets a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Say…maybe you could try setting the ball for me? It’s more challenging, but you might be able to do it.” Kenma gives Hinata a blank look. Hinata sighs. “You just toss the ball to me and I hit it over the net. It’s only slightly more complex than what we’ve been doing. Well…in a game it would be a lot harder.”

A few more words of encouragement, and Kenma is standing on one side of the court, staring at the volleyball in their hands like it’s going to bite them. The first time Kenma tosses the ball, their timing is completely off. The second and third, they underestimate how high Hinata can jump and peg him in the side, although their timing is better. Kenma tosses a ball with a perfect arc on their tenth try, and it’s Hinata’s fault that he misses it. Hinata laughs and rubs the back of his neck, and Kenma huffs, annoyed, making Hinata even more delighted.

“You’re getting frustrated!” He chirps excitedly. “It’s really hard, right? Volleyball is tough! But you just want to get better.” Kenma just wants Hinata to spike a single ball so that they can be free, but Kenma thinks they can see why Hinata is so fascinated with the sport. In a game, the two of them wouldn’t get a second chance, let alone nine extra chances to get it right. The spikers and their setter have to be in time with one another, to know each other’s movements, strengths, and weaknesses. It’s like a battery in baseball, or a co-pilot in the Drift…well, maybe that’s why Hinata found piloting so appealing.

Kenma puts their heart into the next toss, trying to keep the time and the memory of that perfect arc, and when Hinata smashes the ball onto the other side of the court with a reverberating crack, Kenma startles at the feeling of euphoric victory in their chest. Hinata lands hard on his feet, clutching his hand and making awed noises, waving his red palm in Kenma’s face excitedly.

“Did you see that, Kenma? We slammed that ball down!” _We._ Hinata looks at his palm with a look of lovesickness that makes Kenma embarrassed to be in the same room.

“Let’s do it again!”

“Ah…I might pass out.”

“Aww, Kenma, but you were perfect!”

“…”

“…Kenma?”

“…Felt good. But I don’t wanna do it again, Shouyou, ‘m tired,” Kenma finally concedes, resting their head on Hinata’s shoulder, hanging on him despite being taller. “Volleyball is exhausting.”

Hinata laughs, and Kenma can feel the vibrations through Hinata’s back. He’s red-faced, flushed with health and happiness, practically bouncing in place. Kenma buries their face into the back of Hinata’s neck even though it’s sticky with sweat, shoving down those feelings of elation Hinata had passed to the temporary setter in his moment of connecting victoriously with the ball. Kenma crushes down the smile and responds to Hinata’s questions _are you thirsty, can you walk, will you get off of me_ with little shakes or nods of their head. They cling to Hinata the entire way back from the gym, for once not caring what others may think of the scene they painted together.

Hinata tucks Kenma into their bed, playing at being overly attentive to a heat-exhausted Kenma. Normally, Kenma would hate this kind of fawning on, even in jest. But they think that maybe this time, it’s okay. Kenma figures, as they go to sleep, that they may not like volleyball all that much, but they sure do like Hinata a lot.

 

\---------------------------------

 

The next day, Hinata takes Kenma to his favorite spot on base. They hop into the maintenance elevator and scale the catwalk to where the mechanics and Jaeger technicians would usually make repairs on Tyrant Omega. Flopping on the floor directly over his kaiju-like Jaeger, Hinata looks perfectly at home, feet dangling over the edge of the walkway, no safety net beneath him. But after staring death in the face and killing it, Kenma supposes a measly catwalk and heights aren’t enough to disturb Hinata. After a moment, Kenma settles next to him, peeking over the edge of the catwalk and feeling sudden vertigo at the height. It must show on their face because Hinata tuts and pulls Kenma back.

“Don’t look over the edge,” Hinata sighs. “You won’t be able to eat lunch if you do.” Hinata pulls out two bento boxes he had hastily made from food snagged from the mess hall. They’re lopsided, but homemade and charming to Kenma, full of good food regardless.

They take theirs from Hinata with a small smile. “Thanks, Shouyou.”

Hinata never stops talking, even while eating. Perhaps it would be annoying on someone else (or _to_ someone else, if Tsukishima’s disgusted glares were anything to go by), but the way Hinata punctuates stories by waving his chopsticks around, a bit of rice on the corner of his mouth, reminds Kenma of simpler, more peaceful times. Hinata had it within him to be serious—Kenma had seen that in him in the small simulation they had done. He was determined and focused, but he could also be as innocent as the day he came to the base, and Kenma liked that about him.

Besides, he was the perfect companion for Kenma, filling any silences with Hinata-like noises and a vast repertoire of stories to entertain Kenma. He never expected anything of them, but always quieted down when he could tell Kenma wanted to speak. Maybe that’s how Kenma ended up getting close to him rather quickly, despite the strange coincidence of their first meeting. Lunches discarded and leaning back on their hands, Kenma finds that they can talk freely about their past and Hinata about his.

“Kuro and I were recruited early on,” Kenma explains softly. “We were in the first wave of recruits when the volunteers ran short.”

Hinata fixes them with a look of awe. “That’s incredible! Wow, so you two must be super important, to have been chosen out of all the young people in the nation.”

Kenma shakes their head. “Not as much as you’d think. They just picked kids that had close bonds and parents who weren’t rich enough to pay them off.” They shrug. “It was alright. I wasn’t really sure what I wanted to do with my life and Kuroo thought it could be exciting, so.”

It had been easy, back then. They had just been a pair of stupid kids who couldn’t see a future ahead of them and were living day-to-day anyway. Better them than the college prep kids who had university dreams and a goal in life. Kenma pulls their knees to their chest and rests their cheek on top of them. “I didn’t think it would turn out like this at all. Piloting is a lot more difficult than just stepping into a Jaeger.”

Hinata twists his mouth sympathetically and glances across the hangar to where Scrapper Nine lies dormant in his station, propped awkwardly up on two legs when all he wants is to be on four. Hinata doubts Kenma could have ever conceived that they would ride in a Jaeger of such an unprecedented design, nor that they would be tangled up in the politics of the Jaeger program, being shoved from base to base because of their odd style of piloting, nor that they would be able to freely communicate with their co-pilot through telepathy.

“It’s definitely harder than it looks,” Hinata agrees softly, thinking of his own struggles both with the program and with his co-pilot. “You’re lucky you get along with your co-pilot, at least.”

“Mmm, yeah, I guess so,” Kenma shrugs. “Kuro’s always looked after me, though, even when we were young. He’d wipe my nose and feed me soup when I was sick, all the while clicking his tongue and scolding me for not being able to look after myself.” Kenma smiles fondly at the memory. “Except, any time I got up to try and do something for myself, he’d get all worked up and shove me back in bed, telling me to let him take care of it.”

“The mother hen type?” Hinata asks disbelievingly, raising an eyebrow.

Kenma shakes their head. “No, not really. I’m the only one he ever took such delicate care of, even before—well, nevermind that. He’s more of the mentoring type, although he’s also the kind who’ll make you frustrated and pissed off at him before you realize what he’s doing is for your own good.”

“Ah, what a complex guy,” Hinata sighs, lying down. “My brain hurts just from juggling all that information. I don’t know what I would do if my partner was a mystery like that.” He frowns, suddenly. “Although I can’t say he’s as straightforward as he appears, either.”

 _Right_ , Kenma thinks, shaking themself internally. _This isn’t time to be getting friendly with Shouyou; I have a job to do._ “What’s he like?” Kenma asks tentatively. “Seems to be the overly-serious kind…”

Hinata huffs and rolls over on his side to face Kenma. “You’d think that, wouldn’t you? He concentrates so hard on the technical side of piloting for sure, but when it comes to the emotional side…” Hinata’s gaze hardens. “He’s struck out more than once.”

Kenma lies down slowly, blinking at Hinata. “Piloting is a team effort, though,” they point out. Hinata sputters, but Kenma presses on. “Even if he wronged you, you’re still a team. Are you really that willing to eliminate any chance at compromise for the sake of your own pride?”

“It’s not pri—” Hinata balks.

“Then what is it?” Kenma cuts him off, intensity back in his eyes. _This_ was the root of their splintering, the reason their files had not matched up with reality. It had nothing to do with ability. “What is so important to you that you would sacrifice an impossible sync score for?”

Hinata presses his lips together, rolls to his other side. He doesn’t speak to Kenma for a long moment, so long that Kenma thinks they’ve overstepped their boundaries. Hinata’s voice when he speaks is a tiny, fragile thing. “He lied to me.”

Hinata takes a shaky breath. “He lied about Iwaizumi-san and Oikawa-san and about how much he suffered from the collapse of his mentors. The reason for our struggles in the Drift originally was because of that. And then…even after we were finally able to open up to each other, he still kept that from me. He didn’t trust me with the horrors of his past and that…stung.”

“He was trying to protect you,” Kenma says, understanding. “And himself. He didn’t want you to live through that and he didn’t want to show you how broken he was.”

Hinata flips around, angry. “But I _have_ lived through that. Daichi-san is dead and Suga-san is gone. Instead of turning to me for comfort and support _even after it happened twice to him_ , Kageyama locked himself away from me. I wanted to _be there_ for him…I wanted him to be there for me. How am I supposed to trust him now?”

“What are you even talking about,” Kenma deadpans. “He tried his best, Shouyou. Don’t you think you can forgive him?” Kenma’s face takes on a strange look. “Even if it’s only for the sake of humanity, don’t you think you should repair your relationship?”

Hinata holds Kenma’s gaze, then looks away. “Drifting feels shitty right now. Even when we can connect, it’s awkward because we’re trying to keep to ourselves. Before, we were able to move as one, exist and breathe and feel every cell of each other’s body as one. I miss that. I miss Ghost Drifting. It’s empty without someone else in my mind.”

Kenma flicks him across the nose and Hinata yips in surprise. “Stuuuupid,” Kenma drawls, “he probably misses you just as much. Why’re you being so difficult, Shouyou?”

Hinata giggles nervously. “Ehehehe…I guess I just needed someone to kick my butt a little. Thank you, Kenma.” He peeks up at Kenma shyly through his bangs. Kenma feels a completely inappropriate blush color their cheeks.

“What’re you thanking me for…” they mutter, looking away.

Hinata stretches his arms out, making a squeaky noise of pleasure. “Geh, I can’t even remember how to Drift right, though. I completely suck at it and Kageyama’s no help ‘cause he doesn’t want to touch me. We’ve been forcing ourselves together each time and it’s _tiring_.”

It’s the opportunity Kenma needs. _So why am I hesitating?_ “I could test Drift with you…y’know, if it would help,” they offer tentatively. “It doesn’t have to be anything official; back in Tokyo our team used to switch up partners every now and then so that we were able to Drift different ways…just in case our co-pilot…” Kenma makes a vague gesture with their hands. “You know.”

Hinata’s curious. “Would we be able to?” He wonders aloud. “I mean, are we even Drift compatible?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah, we are,” Kenma replies. “I have a good feel for this kind of stuff. I could teach you that too, if you’d like.”

Hinata’s face splits into a grin. “That’s so cool! Can you really teach me?”

Kenma nods. “It’ll take a few tries, but anyone can do it. It’ll help you get a better feel for Kageyama, too. Drifting is all about trust and ease. Once you’re fully comfortable with your co-pilot, you can do incredible things.” Hinata’s excited whoop sticks in the back of Kenma’s mind the rest of the day.

 

\------------------------------------------

 

It’s easy enough for Kenma to find Michimiya’s schedule and pick a time when no one will be around. They have to be very careful, going about the first phase of the plan. They have Hinata on the hook, interested, but Kenma needs to be wary of scaring Hinata off or worse—someone else finding out. Knowing that Michimiya or Saeko finding out would be the worst case scenario, Kenma picks Michimiya’s lunch break as the time he and Hinata seek out the test Drift room.

“Huh?” Hinata says, looking around curiously once they step inside. “Michimiya-san isn’t here.”

“That’s fine,” Kenma says. “Like I said, this isn’t official and I know how to set up the test anyway. You can put on your drivesuit—I’ll take care of this.” Hinata nods and hops inside the pod. Once he’s out of sight, Kenma shuts off the recording apparatus with a grimace.

“Listen,” Kenma says softly, stepping in just as Hinata yanks the ill-fitting helmet on. Hinata makes a sound of acknowledgement and meets Kenma’s eyes. He’s shocked by the seriousness in Kenma’s usually passive expression. Their eyes are hard and sharp as steel. Hinata snaps to attention.

“This is very important, Shouyou,” Kenma warns. “You can’t wander in my mind. If I tell you not to go somewhere, you have to listen to me. It’s—well, it can be dangerous.” The intensity leaves their eyes and they get changed themself.

But the impression sits with Hinata. He remembers seeing that look in Kenma’s eyes when he surprised them in the belly of the base and again when they challenged Hinata before the simulation. There’s something about Kenma and Kuroo that’s a little off, puzzle pieces that don’t quite fit together. Hinata remembers what Kageyama said to him, to stay away from Kenma and Kuroo. He doesn’t feel unease, exactly, but there’s a nagging sense of curiosity and a need to _know_ that puts him on edge.

 _Kenma’s got something to hide_ , Hinata thinks. _She’s keeping secrets, and whether they’re dangerous or benign, I want to know them_.

“You ready?” Kenma asks, and Hinata nods. Kenma flicks a switch, and Hinata is back _there_ in a second.

Hinata hasn’t been in the in-between since he first started Drifting with Kageyama. They instinctually reach for each other and form the neural bridge immediately upon synchronization, so he never has time to look around. The space is vast and never-ending as it always is, but…Hinata _shivers_. He’s reminded of that one time he dove into the deep end of the lap pool late one night with Noya and Tanaka. The lights were all off, even in the pool, and he could barely make out the bottom in the dim lighting. It’s hard to describe—a feeling of fear that he could never place, but that same sense of lurking danger, of cold dread climbing his spine is there, only this time, Hinata can’t swim to the edge of the pool and climb out to safety, shuddering. He can only hover there in the dark emptiness, a blank and numbing fear consuming his senses.

 _Relax_. Kenma’s voice. It’s coming out garbled and distant, though, their consciousness not yet touching Hinata’s. _This is the first place I need you to listen to me_ , they say calmly. _Don’t look around too much. I can feel your fear from all the way over here. We won’t be able to Drift if you’re this scared_.

 _What’s…what’s **wrong** with this place?_ Hinata asks.

 _You’ve Drifted with Tyrant Omega before,_ Kenma points out, seemingly randomly. _It can’t be any worse than this_.

Hinata is confused. Yes, Omega had frightened them at first, and human instinct still told them not to touch him, but Omega kept to himself. _This_ wrongness was not contained to a single body but existing everywhere around Hinata, pressing against him and stretching as far as he could reach his mind. And it was more malicious then Omega’s curiosity—the deep, feral dread worse than anything Hinata had ever felt.

All of a sudden, Kenma‘s consciousness is pressed against his. Like Kageyama, they’re a cold mind, but not cuttingly so. The cold is more of a chill, sinking into Hinata’s bones and making his shivers worse, but the presence of another human being comforts him, allows him to open his mind.

 _That’s it,_ Kenma says. _There’s nothing for human beings out there_. Hinata wants to ask them what they mean, but the bridge connects them and Hinata is spiraling through their memories to see that other side.

Hinata opens his eyes, feeling the additional weight of Kenma’s mind alongside his. The heaviness is comforting and as clean as Drifting with Kageyama used to be. He glances over to his right, but Kenma’s eyes are still closed. “Kenma?” He prompts, his words acting like a shock to Kenma, whose eyes jolt open. Hinata frowns. Something’s still not right.

“Okay,” Kenma says. “That’s Drifting with me. It’s not particularly nice, but now that we’re connected, I can…”

Hinata sees it.

It’s less of a seeing and more of a feeling, a hole in their otherwise flawless synchronization, a tugging on their connection. He tries not to look at it. _Kenma said not to wander_. But it’s a yawning, gaping, _unnatural_ flaw, and Hinata couldn’t hurt anyone just by probing at it a little, not a whole lot, just a tad—

He brushes his mind against the oddity between them, and that’s when everything goes to shit.

Hinata falls—he’s not sure _where_ he’s falling, but he is separated brutally from Kenma, yet not separated at all. Shocked, he realized the black hole is _swallowing_ him. He tumbles down the pit helplessly, unable to hold himself up or reach for Kenma. _Why, why did he have to go where he shouldn’t go?_ The fall stops, but it’s different from what he expects. It’s not the bottom of a pit, but the furthest reaches of that malevolent darkness in the in-between. He hadn’t fallen down—he had fallen _away_ , so far away Kenma would never be able to reach him.

Here, the cold is infinitely more potent, clawing at him while pulling him ever closer to the source of his fears, to the unknown in the darkness. Hinata is drowning in that dark pool, unable to paddle to the surface but drifting closer to the barely illuminated concrete bottom, swallowed by the inky darkness. There was a reason humans were afraid of the dark and afraid of the unknown. It was because this _thing_ tugging Hinata closer lay just outside the corner of their eyes, perched in the one shadow they never checked, always lingering in the fear they tried to ignore.

It opens its single, massive eye on Hinata, and he _screams_.

Its gaze flays him alive, tears him limb from limb, oh _where_ is the cold, he is _burning_ , feeling his skin peel from his muscle and muscle from bone under the weight of that _thing’s_ gaze. In that moment, Hinata wishes for death above all else, just to free him from the agony of the otherworldly being’s focus.

Kenma is there. Kenma shoves Hinata behind them, shielding him from its gaze. Hinata can’t look, doesn’t know what happens, but then Kenma has a hand around Hinata’s upper arm and forces him against the current pulling them away from the surface of the Drift, hauling him back to safety. Hinata bursts through the surface of the Drift and then out of the connection altogether, gasping and shaking, tearing at his helmet with fingers that blur as his vision gets clouded with tears. He rips himself from the command platform and marches out of the pod, dragging his fingers through his hair and trying to stop the stream of tears.

But he can still feel _it_ there, burned onto his brain like a hot brand or the afterimage of a camera flash in the back of his mind, refusing to fade. Kenma steps out after him, delicately. They looked resigned.

“You can never unsee it,” Kenma says softly. “It sticks with you no matter what; trust me, I’ve tried to remove it. That’s the price you pay for knowledge.”

“What,” Hinata gasps, “What the _fuck_ was that?”

“Something humans should never look upon or even know about,” Kenma replies evasively. “The reason we need the Drift and the reason to fear it.” Kenma’s face crumples. “I’m sorry; I should never have even put you in a situation where you would encounter that. I’m sorry.”

Hinata takes a few deep, steadying breaths. “It’s my fault though, right?” He asks softly. “I shouldn’t have wandered off. But Kenma…what…what could have _possibly_ happened in your past for you to know that _thing_?”

Kenma looks away. “Nothing I could trouble you with, Shouyou. I’m sorry.”

Hinata puts a still-trembling hand on Kenma’s shoulder and gives them his best attempt at a smile. “You can trust me with anything, Kenma. We’re friends…best friends, even. I’ll have your back, I promise.”

Kenma blinks rapidly. “We…should probably leave, anyway.”

“Well, if it’s all the same to you…” Hinata pauses. Remembers the fear, just now receding. Hardens his resolve. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to try again. You still haven’t taught me those Drifting techniques.”

Kenma’s eyes widen and they nod, a little dumbfounded. Hinata keeps the smile plastered to his face, but he knows it’s more than that. _If there are pilots like Kenma out there, or times I’ll be put in a similar situation, I want to know how to deal with it. I hate feeling scared. I hate feeling powerless. I want to be able to bear it. I may be using Kenma a little bit, but…but I’m sure she wants someone to stand beside her, too. It must be lonely, carrying a secret like that._

They step back into the test Drift pod. Kenma shoots Hinata a significant look. “I’m serious, though. Stay close to me.” Hinata nods and laughs awkwardly. The smile falls from his face as Kenma hits the switch again. _I am going to become stronger_.

 

\-------------------------------

 

Rippling heat rises from the tarmac, the distance so blurred by heat waves that the pilots can’t see much clearly from the barely relieving shade of the hangar. Cicadas buzz to life, competing with the sound of military jets landing and taking off, drowning out Kuroo’s voice every few minutes. The six pilots had planned to look nice for today, but jackets have been tossed in a pile and pant legs rolled up. Yamaguchi has sweated right through his dress shirt and Hinata fans him sympathetically, tank clinging to him like a second skin.

At their sides, Kageyama and Tsukishima are intent on the map Kuroo and Kenma have laid out across the table, paperweights organized across the topography of the exit bay in formation of the three Jaegers, plus a fourth paperweight that has the four rookies on edge. Tsukishima is drumming his fingers against his arm, the only visible sign of discomfort despite the sweat beading at his forehead and sticking his hair to his temple. Kageyama leans across the table, adopting domineering posture that has Kenma tucking themself safely behind Kuroo. Kageyama is fixed on Kuroo’s every word, scowling in concentration at the strategy Kuroo’s lining up for the inevitable next attack.

“Since Gold Strike has had more experience, we’ll have them running left flank while Omega—” Kuroo begins, but Kageyama cuts him off.

“Hold on, that doesn’t make any sense,” he murmurs. “Gold Strike is best utilized as a distance weapon; you need brute force to protect the civilian side.”

“Yeah, but,” Hinata breaks in, “Omega is more prone to collateral damage. We focus solely on killing the kaiju when we get in the zone. Strike’s pilots are more wary than we are, just ‘cause of experience.”

“More precise in our weaponry, too,” Yamaguchi wheezes from where he’s made a paper fan of the bulletin Kuroo had handed them. Kuroo notices, and frowns.

“You’ll probably be able to navigate the deeper water of the right edge anyway, Kageyama,” Kuroo points out.

“No, that doesn’t make any sense,” Tsukishima sighs, finally entering the fray. “Suga-san and Daichi-san both told us that fighting in deep water was a bad idea, and they’re right. Omega’s movements would be restricted by the depth, whereas Strike could just stand and shoot.”

Yamaguchi moans. “C’mon, Kei. Can’t you just let him make the plan?”

Tsukishima cuffs Yamaguchi firmly, but not enough to cause him much pain. “I’m trying to keep us _alive_ , Tadashi. Just because Kuroo-san has played the game before doesn’t mean he always wins. And Scrapper has the least to lose,” he adds, glaring at Kuroo, who shrugs mockingly.

“By all means,” he offers, “if you’d like to place yourself at the back and limit your visibility too much to shoot, be my guest.”

Tsukishima takes a purposeful step forward that Kuroo regards coolly but with sharp attention. Tsukishima tilts his head to the side. “You act like you have our complete and utter trust, Kuroo-san,” he says softly. “You might want to check your facts a bit.”

“Tsukishima,” Kageyama warns. “Even if he’s a pain, he’s still our superior, and like you said, this isn’t his first run.”

“It’s not ours, either,” Tsukishima returns without looking at Kageyama. “A superior is only useful when they have gained trust and they take the thoughts and instincts of their subordinates into consideration—that’s what Tadashi and I have learned from the previous point team, and even if they were wrong about some things, they weren’t wrong about that.”

“Won’t either way work?” Kenma mutters. “We can always switch it up the next time if it doesn’t.”

“Unless we’re dead,” Kageyama argues. Hinata lets out a long sigh in unison with Yamaguchi. They exchange glances.

“This is a disaster,” Hinata mutters to Yamaguchi. “All three of our teams have such different mentalities and piloting styles, we’ll never mesh well.”

Yamaguchi looks glum. “And we have to do it in this baking hot hangar, waiting for god knows wh—”

The sound of a jet pulling into the hangar cuts off Yamaguchi mid-sentence. Arguments among the main group pause as the jet crawls in, clearly military and clearly displaying the Korean flag. The tail slips into the shaded heat of the hangar and its engines finally whir to a stop, parking the plane directly in front of the pilots. Hinata glances across the table for confirmation of the new arrivals and is greeted by a wild look in Kuroo’s eyes and a grin so fierce he looks predatory. Kenma, too, has straightened their back is peering around Kuroo, eyes just as wide as Kuroo’s with a hopeful light to them.

The airstairs descend on the furthest side of the plane and there’s a moment where all the pilots hold their breath. Two pairs of black dress shoes make their way down the stairs and then the new arrivals are within full view. And within full hearing range.

Hinata’s not entirely sure what he expected, but it certainly wasn’t two individuals in the finest black military uniform he’d ever seen, visors rimmed with gold wreath and their sigil, an owl with its wings extended above it, marching towards them smartly, one with an old-timey boombox perched on his shoulder, blasting AC/DC’s _Back In Black_.

The man carrying the boombox is a shock of white and grey streaked hair and golden raptor eyes, terrifying, if it weren’t for the fact that he breaks his march to dance to the music, mouthing the words wholeheartedly, looking for all the world like a college kid showing up to a block party late and in style. He points straight at Kuroo, headbanging as Brian Johnson belts out “ _I got…nine lives…cat’s eyes…_ ” and Kuroo’s fiercely anticipatory stare drops to a dopey grin that takes all the rookies aback.

“C’mon, Keiji!” Owl Eyes insists. “This riff coming up is your shit! Air guitar!”

Keiji, Owl Eyes’ considerably more reserved and resigned partner, sighs with the patience of someone who’s held a thousand similar arguments. “The guitar riff is not ‘my shit,’ as you continually insist it is, Koutarou. May I direct you to Kuroo, who I’m sure would be happy to play the role of your lead guitarist.” They gesture at Kuroo, practically bouncing in place.

Koutarou lifts the boombox off his shoulder and puts it on the ground, Tom Petty taking up the call after AC/DC fades out. “Tetsu,” he says gently, almost _tenderly_ , and Kuroo breaks. He runs full speed at Koutarou, who laughs and catches him, spinning him around once despite their heights. Then, to the shock of most assembled, Kuroo catches Koutarou’s face in his hands and kisses him with the ferocity of two parted lovers.

Yamaguchi coughs politely and looks away, Tsukishima following suit, while Kageyama and Hinata can only blush and stare, trapped. Keiji rolls their eyes and moves past the emotional couple, now busy hugging and pounding each other’s backs, Koutarou still kissing Kuroo on the nose, on the temple, mussing up his hair affectionately. Their impassive face breaks into a delicate smile that matches the softness of their features as they jog quietly over to Kenma, who looks equally pleased.

“Kenma,” Keiji calls fondly. They take each other’s hands, intertwining their fingers happily. “I’m so glad to see you again,” Keiji sighs. “It’s been far too long.”

“It’s been awful without you, Keiji,” Kenma replies, eyeing his co-pilot over Keiji’s shoulder. “As much as I enjoy Kuroo’s company, I miss having civilized discussion, too.” Keiji pulls Kenma into a brief hug, a pink dust on both of their cheeks. Kenma collapses into Keiji's embrace, burying their face into Keiji's shoulder. “Missed you,” Kenma confesses.

“Ahem,” Tsukishima deadpans. “If it’s alright by you, we have introductions to get to. Kageyama and Hinata have never met _them_ before.” And they’re too shocked to speak, either. It’s the most gentle and loving they’ve ever seen Kuroo and the most emotional they’ve seen Kenma. The four senior pilots recover from their reunions and turns towards the group, Keiji and Kenma still holding hands and Koutarou with an arm slung around Kuroo’s neck, Kuroo with an arm wrapped around his waist.

“Right,” Kuroo says brightly. “Introductions. This,” he gestures to Owl Eyes, “is Bokuto Koutarou, lead of our new auxiliary team and part of Gamma Raptor’s duo—the team with the most drops of any functioning team today. Attached to Kenma is Akaashi Keiji, his co-pilot. I hope you will welcome both of them to the base as warmly as you can. They’re not like Kenma and I—people actually _like_ them.”

“Hope you don’t mind us intruding,” Bokuto says cheerfully. “Tetsu called us in, and I’ve never been able to say no to Tetsu a day in my life.” He laughs boldly and loudly, filling the entire hangar with his boom of a voice.

On the other hand, Akaashi bows respectfully to the other pilots. “Please excuse our interruption. We’ll be sharing your base for the next few months, so please take care of us.” They turn that runway model smile on the newbies. “Besides, Korea gets dull after a while; it’s good to be home.”

“H-Hinata Shouyou!” Hinata blurts before he can stop himself.

“Ohohoho, at least one of them has spirit!” Bokuto grins, shooting Hinata a thumbs up. “Hinata, huh? I think I’d like to take you under my wing.” Hinata looks delighted by the idea, perking up immediately.

“Kageyama Tobio,” Kageyama cuts in before Hinata can get another word in, most likely the beginning of a hero worship-esque speech that Kageyama didn’t have the patience for. “I’m his co-pilot. We run the Test Mark, Tyrant Omega. Good to have you.” Hinata glances at Kageyama curiously out the corner of his eye. That was the first time Kageyama had ever introduced himself as _Hinata’s_ co-pilot.

“Test Mark…” Akaashi murmurs. “Right, the one all the other bases have their eye on.” Hinata and Kageyama stiffen at their words. They notice and make a small ‘ah’ of mild surprise. “Don’t let that make you anxious though; as long as you kill kaiju, no one’s going to criticize you except your co-workers.” They turn to Yamaguchi and nod. “It’s good to see you, too, Yamaguchi.” A glance over his head. “And you, Tsukishima.”

Tsukishima doesn’t meet Akaashi’s eyes, clicking his tongue in annoyance. Akaashi doesn’t look away. “I heard you two finally started using the Ghost Drift,” they add, a teasing edge to their voice. Tsukishima looks up at that, meeting the playful challenge in Akaashi's eyes and backing down almost immediately.

“Our situation changed,” Tsukishima grumbles, allowing a harsh glance at Kuroo. “Things are different now.” Akaashi is unruffled but seemingly satisfied with the new development. Bokuto is significantly more ruffled.

“What? Tsukishima?” He brightens. “Then you finally see how important and useful it is!” He sighs in relief. “I’m glad to hear it, really. You’ll have a much better time with Drifting if you use it.”

“He just hates admitting he was wrong,” Yamaguchi stage whispers, elbowing Tsukishima gently in the side. Tsukishima only grumbles, Bokuto snickering with Yamaguchi and fist-bumping him.

“You seem livelier than I remember, Yamaguchi,” Bokuto observes, voice gentle. “Finally grew a spine, huh?” Yamaguchi rolls his eyes but nods.

“Like Kei said, our situation changed. I’m trying to step out from his shadow and prove my worth as a pilot alongside him now,” he explains, making an _oof_ of surprise when Bokuto laughs and wraps him in a headlock.

He frees Yamaguchi and then glances over at Akaashi, who meets his gaze with a warm look. “Looks like Tetsu was exaggerating a bit, huh, Keiji?” Bokuto says. “These kids don’t look half-bad at all.”

“A little rusty, maybe,” Akaashi concedes, letting their eyes rest upon both Tsukishima and Kageyama for just long enough to make them uncomfortable. “But that can be fixed. We’ll have ourselves a task force to be feared in no time.”

“We weren’t any good on our own after all, Kuro,” Kenma mutters to their co-pilot. Kuroo makes mock-scandalized face.

“Kenma! How could you?” Kenma yawns, and Kuroo’s look softens. “We best be getting to the Shatterdome now, anyway. Kou, you wanted to look over Gamma, right?”

Bokuto nods. “Yeah, just get her all situated and get to know the mechanics a bit. I’ll need to make a few tweaks, inevitably.”

“I’ll see if I can hunt down the younger Tanaka for you. He’s the head mechanic now, you know,” Kuroo offers.

Bokuto grins. “You don’t say? He sure as hell deserved it. Well, that’ll make getting access to our lady easier; I‘m sure he remembers how much I love to dote on her.”

Kuroo nods towards the Shatterdome. “C’mon, you can stick with me. Kenma’ll show the rest of them to Gamma Raptor’s station.” Kenma yawns once more, the heat finally getting to them. Akaashi takes off their hat and fans Kenma, who leans into the wind gratefully.

Kuroo and Bokuto lead the group back to the comfort of the base (where there was, thankfully, air-conditioning), the rest of the group dragging behind. Hinata and Yamaguchi happily grill Akaashi to the bone about their piloting experience and what Korea was like and what kind of Jaeger Gamma was and—

Tsukishima clicks his tongue. “They’re so annoying.”

“You can say that again,” Kageyama grunts. “What kind of person pesters a senior officer like that?”

Tsukishima frowns. “Well, they probably like it, anyway. Akaashi-san makes a habit of getting to know and analyzing people relevant to their career. It won’t be long until they have Hinata and Tadashi all figured out. You, too.”

Kageyama cocks his head to the side. “Is that what they did to you?” Tsukishima bristles.

“Akaashi-san isn’t a bad person,” he snaps defensively. “Just…an invasive, near-omniscient one. I’m sure they don’t mean to come off that way, but…I always feel like a specimen under the glass when they look at me.”

“Why’re you telling me?” Kageyama grumbles. “I don’t care about your angst over Akaashi-san. Go tell Yamaguchi if you’re looking for sympathy.”

Tsukishima rolls his eyes. “I’m warning you, not dumping my problems on you, moron. I don’t have any quarrel with Akaashi-san. I’m being a good, kind teammate and letting you and Hinata know,” he sneers. Kageyama glares right back, but relents when another thought crosses his mind.

“What about Bokuto-san?” Tsukishima regards the figure far ahead of them with mild scrutiny.

“Bokuto-san is harmless…to us at least,” he decides. “He’s not nearly as carefree as he acts—there’s a serious side to him that will make your head spin. But he also has mood shifts and is easily excitable, so it’s hard to believe. He’ll be a good mentor for Hinata.”

“Mentor?” Kageyama repeats.

“Yeah. Suga-san and Daichi-san took us under their wing, while Akaashi-san and Bokuto-san took them under _their_ wings,” Tsukishima explains. “Now that there are three experienced teams, you and Hinata are the ones that need close mentoring. They’ll take care of that. I’m pretty sure they’ll want to feel out me and Tadashi, too, though.” Kageyama must have an alarmed look on his face because Tsukishima lets out a long, annoyed sigh. “It’s okay, they really are fine. You’ll probably get really close with Akaashi-san. I think they’re interested in you.”

Kageyama’s not sure how he feels about that, but before he can harass Tsukishima for more details on the two new pilots, they arrive at the Shatterdome. Kuroo and Bokuto are long gone, searching for Tanaka, and Kenma takes the lead. Akaashi has a peaceful look about their face that speaks of happy nostalgia about the place. Yamaguchi drops back to Tsukishima’s side at the same time Tsukishima lengthens his stride to break from Kageyama. They twine fingers, Tsukishima playing it off like it’s nothing and Yamaguchi humming contentedly at his side. Kageyama scoffs. _Now that they had the Ghost Drift, they were twice as annoying._

“Kageyama- _saaaan_ ,” Hinata breaks into Kageyama’s bitter glowering with a drawl of Kageyama’s name. Kageyama jumps.

“What’s with the honorific?” He asks, raising an eyebrow.

“What’s with calling yourself _my_ co-pilot?” Hinata bounces back, as if anticipating Kageyama’s response. He doesn’t look accusing, just curious.

Kageyama looks away. “Aren’t you the one in control of the Drift now?” He mutters, pained at having to admit it. Hinata headbutts him. “Ow!” He yelps.

“Kageyama, are you an idiot?” Hinata huffs, pointedly looking away from him. “There’s _three_ of us in that Drift. No one’s in control—sometimes we don’t all pull our weight, but we’re all in it together.”

 _A change of heart?_ Hinata had been avoiding interacting with Kageyama like the plague, but now he’s got this sheepishness to him, holding his hands behind his back and shoulders pulled tight. “You’re probably right,” he allows, still feeling unsteady with Hinata’s change. Well, if Tsukishima and Yamaguchi could solve their clusterfuck of a power imbalance, there was no way he and Hinata couldn’t resolve their differences.

“Ah, there she is,” Akaashi says, pointing across Shatterdome. All the pilots follow their finger.

Gamma Raptor reminds them all suddenly and painfully of Apocalypto Alpha. She’s one of the triplets of Mark IV’s—quite literally the same build as AA. Her paint job is sleek black and gold, a companion in color design to Scrapper Nine. As a Mark IV, she wasn’t particularly fast, but she packed a hell of a punch with the weight and momentum of her hand-to-hand, hence the weapons that gave her her name: each ‘hand’ or ‘foot’ was tipped in curved, talon-like fingers that Kageyama would bet his fancy drivesuit were plasma weapon technology. She also had a guided missile system for long-range weapons compatibility.

Hinata whistles. “She’s very versatile, isn’t she?”

Akaashi nods their assent. “Yes, our weapons designers took into consideration Koutarou's preference for short-range and my preference for long-range weapons. As a result, we can run any position—back, flank, point, you name it—pretty easily. We’re not quick, though. We can’t run by ourselves.”

“That’s what you have us for,” Yamaguchi says confidently. “You can rely on us, Akaashi-san.”

“And both your teams can rely on us,” Akaashi returns. “Hopefully we’ll be able to run a few drills together before the real drop.”

“Kuro found him,” Kenma adds, gesturing to the catwalk at Gamma’s shoulder height. Kuroo and Bokuto crawl across the walkway with someone who is presumably Tanaka, tiny specks above the rest of the pilots.

“What are they doing?” Hinata wonders aloud. “What kind of adjustments does Bokuto-san have to make?”

Akaashi gives him a small smile. “Koutarou knows Gamma Raptor very well. New bases mean slightly different stations, different ways of positioning, different conditions that the Jaegers are being kept in. Koutarou and I can tell when something’s off with Gamma, be it the way she’s sitting or if her engines are too hot or too cold or if water is getting into the missile launchers.”

“Superstition,” Tsukishima mutters under his breath.

“How can you tell?” Hinata asks. “I mean, Omega kind of talks to us, but it’s more like impressions and he’s never upset unless we are…”

Akaashi shakes their head. “Yours is an extremely unique case. Gamma doesn’t speak to us in words or impressions. Rather, it’s the sounds she makes when resting or when powered up, the hiss and grind of gears or the temperature of her metal shell that tells us what we need to know.”

“But that sounds useful, too,” Hinata argues.

“Akaashi-san and Bokuto-san haven’t needed major repairs in three years!” Yamaguchi chimes in.

“It probably helps a little bit,” Akaashi admits. “But mostly it’s because we have good support both on and off the field of battle.” They turn back to Gamma just in time to see Saeko striding onto the scene, distinctive figure and white lab coat cutting through the clusters of mechanics and technicians hurrying around with the new Jaeger’s arrival. Akaashi’s eyes light up in recognition. “That would be my cue to leave. It’s been a pleasure Hinata, Yamaguchi, Kageyama, Tsukishima.” They put a hand on Kenma’s shoulder and squeeze gently. “I’ll see you later, Kenma.”

“Wow,” Yamaguchi says after Akaashi has moved out of earshot. “They haven’t changed a bit. Still a light in the darkest of times, huh Kei?”

“Hmm,” Tsukishima replies, terse.

“Do you know Akaashi-san quite well, Kenma?” Hinata asks curiously, hooking his chin over Kenma’s shoulder. “You seemed close.”

“Ah, yes,” Kenma murmurs, flustered. “Keiji was probably my first friend after other teams stared ostracizing Kuro and I. They’re as close to me as kin.” Hinata makes a dissatisfied humming noise. Kenma pokes their index fingers together slowly. “Of course, even though Keiji is practically family, Shouyou is still my best frien—”

“ _Waaah! Kenma!_ ” Hinata wails, wrapping his arms around the anxious senior pilot. “I want to be your friend forever!” Kenma looks distinctly uncomfortable with the affection, but tentatively places their hands over Hinata’s arms and tries to hide the pink of their cheeks.

Kageyama glances at Tsukishima, who either can’t feel the intensity of Kageyama’s stare or is purposefully ignoring him. Kageyama huffs and looks away. Regardless of Tsukishima’s reticence, he agrees with him. He can’t place exactly what he feels about Akaashi and Bokuto. Perhaps it was the suspiciousness of Kuroo and Kenma that made him edgy—but even though their personalities were as genuine as Hinata’s love of piloting, there was still something eating away at him.

“Maybe it’s just my imagination,” Kageyama says slowly, softly so only Tsukishima and Yamaguchi can hear. “But doesn’t it seem like they know more than they should? Their intentions aren’t bad, but there’s an urgency to their actions and words that I haven’t seen in anyone but Kuroo and Kenma.”

Yamaguchi frowns, looking between the two. Tsukishima doesn’t say anything for a moment, but finally sighs. “It’s a waste of time to be suspicious of them—whatever it is that they know, we have to trust their judgment that they won’t endanger any of us.”

“And you’re willing to take that risk?” Kageyama asks incredulously.

“You’ll understand why soon enough,” Tsukishima replies.

 

\------------------------------------------

 

Kuroo and Kenma knocked the remaining Miyagi pilots off their feet—that much was certain. Their sense of order, already askew, had been snatched and reworked in a way that caused the gears of their well-oiled machine to grind and screech against each other unpleasantly. The junior pilots, once so tolerant and comfortable with each other, fought and divided along teams and then individual pilots, effectively breaking the machine that had been so carefully constructed by Daichi and Koushi.

The Tokyo team was right, however, when they said the machine hadn’t been working—the loss of a team was evidence of that. The junior pilots didn’t have to like it, but they did have to learn to work together differently. What they had failed to realize, however, was that in breaking down bonds and forcing the pilots to stand alone, Kuroo and Kenma had laid out the perfect parts to assemble a new, fully-functioning kaiju response team.

In that sense, Akaashi and Bokuto were the designers of that new team. That new machine.

They had tools at hand that Kuroo and Kenma didn’t. For one, the Miyagi base was their home; they knew every major official and a considerable few who had been promoted while they were away on transfer. They were loved and welcomed, returning to a niche rather than digging a new one out. They also had a way around people that Kuroo and Kenma lacked.

Bokuto, unsurprisingly, drew many to his side with his charisma, volume, and good cheer every second of the day. He never failed to get excited over even the smallest project by the most minor technician, giving high-fives to anyone he passed in the hall. He was an instant celebrity not only to the civilian and scientific staff of the base, but also to Yamaguchi and Hinata who found his strength and friendliness admirable. Bokuto never tired of them, either, always happy to greet his fellow pilots and tell them a story or help them out with some aspect of training.

Akaashi’s presence was nothing so bold as Bokuto's, but still just as important. Akaashi worked behind-the-scenes, lending an ear to every research project. They listened more than they talked, but when they opened their mouth, it was always because they had something to say, and people listened. Akaashi’s draw was their quiet power and the respect they commanded with just a look or a tone of voice. Akaashi’s beauty, too, drew attention to them, but there was a fear attached to that kind of admiration. People tended to shy from them, although Yamaguchi was far too fascinated with all he could learn from Akaashi to be afraid and Kageyama was in the middle of trying to figure them out.

Tsukishima wasn’t wrong about the mentoring, either.

 

\--------------------------------------------

 

Yamaguchi squints in concentration. To his right, the sound of the ocean pounding against the shore is a soft metronome. The tide is out now, but with every minute they spend here, on the beach, wet sand squished between their toes, is a minute the sea moves in closer and the sun rises. Yamaguchi shifts his posture slightly and his partner mimics the movement. Yamaguchi frowns. Akaashi should be the one at a disadvantage here, really. The sun was in their eyes and everything, but they kept their face expressionless and focused, poised to block any attack Yamaguchi might make.

He feints to one side, but Akaashi doesn’t even flinch, unblinking eyes tracking Yamaguchi with the skill of a predator. Yamaguchi scowls harder. _They’re like a freakin’ owl!_ He finally decides _screw it_ and charges at Akaashi, hoping to overpower them in a power vs. power clash. Akaashi responds instantly, taking Yamaguchi’s charge and using his momentum against him, throwing him to the side and into the sand. Yamaguchi’s head spins, but before he can get up and try again, Akaashi is on top of him, holding him down with a gentle chop at his neck.

“Dead,” they say, and Yamaguchi sighs.

“How am I supposed to find an opening when you have no weaknesses?” He complains. “You don’t blink or get distracted, and I can’t overpower you—how am I supposed to win?”

Akaashi raises an eyebrow. “The kaiju won’t play fair either, you know,” they point out. “They’ll be just as vigilant as I am, and they won’t give you a warning strike.” They offer Yamaguchi a hand, and he takes it, brushing sand from his body and making a face at its persistent clinginess to his clothes. “You have to wait for the perfect opportunity—you can find it, Yamaguchi,” Akaashi continues. “If you can find that opening when we’re standing still like this, with as few distractions as possible, you can find it in the middle of a ferocious battle. Everyone makes more mistakes when under pressure.”

Yamaguchi struggles to concentrate. He punches; he’s blocked. He switches offensive sides; Akaashi adjusts for the change. He lurches forward; Akaashi counters by hopping back. It’s frustrating. Akaashi is clearly going all out against Yamaguchi where defense is concerned, which he appreciates, but he just wishes Akaashi weren’t so good at what they do. There’s just the tiniest slip of early morning sunlight turning the hair on top of Akaashi’s head gold, and then, Yamaguchi feels the beginning of a plan.

He edges forward, composing his face into something as nervous and irritated as he had been for the past hour, trying to hide his epiphany. Akaashi, predictably, doesn’t change his expression. The sunlight slips down Akaashi’s forehead and Yamaguchi has to be careful, they’re sure to feel the heat soon and guess Yamaguchi’s plan, just a little farther…there! The light shines into Akaashi’s eyes and they are forced to blink and shake their head just a little, but that moment of unplanned readjustment is all Yamaguchi needs.

This time, when he tackles Akaashi, he manages to knock them to the ground. Akaashi isn’t helpless though; they wrap their legs around Yamaguchi and flip him over, but Yamaguchi uses that same momentum to continue the roll and end up on top again. He presses hands against Akaashi's shoulders, using his full weight to pin the senior pilot down. Akaashi might have been bigger and stronger than Yamaguchi, but even they had to struggle against gravity. Yamaguchi grins wildly when Akaashi eventually stops struggling and goes limp under him, body shaking with what Yamaguchi identifies as soft laughter.

Akaashi is quite terribly beautiful, and Yamaguchi is suddenly and acutely embarrassed of pinning them down. The sleepy look in their eyes turns fond and they raise a hand for a high-five. Yamaguchi smacks their hands together, smiling shyly at Akaashi and climbing off of them, offering a hand to _them_ this time. “The sun…that was…really, really good, Yamaguchi,” Akaashi praises, shaking their head. “I thought I had accounted for that variable.”

“It’s a good thing I’m on your side instead of against you then, isn’t it?” Yamaguchi teases, cheeky. He’s not sure if it’s insubordinate in such an informal situation like this, but Akaashi seems delighted, ruffling Yamaguchi’s hair.

“That’s true,” they reply. “How about we go for a walk now? Enough of all this brutal training. I want to get this sand off me.” Akaashi almost grumbles the last part. It’s Yamaguchi’s turn to giggle.

“Never been pushed into the sand before, Akaashi-san?” Akaashi knocks their shoulder against his.

“Only once, besides you, and it wasn’t even during sparring,” they huff. “I used to come out here with Koutarou all the time, back when he was still Bokuto-san to me. We had already confirmed each other as Drift compatible in the Kwoon Room; he liked open spaces and I liked fresh air, so we decided to train out here instead of the cramped, staleness of the base. I always defeated him—he was like you; impatient, young, full of energy and strong. Never had the right kind of mindset for strategy.”

“You talk like you weren’t young like him, Akaashi-san,” Yamaguchi says, amused.

The corner of Akaashi’s mouth quirks. “Marshal Ukai Senior called me an ‘old soul’ when I first volunteered. I don’t have quite the wildness of you whippersnappers.” Yamaguchi knows this is a lie. Sure, Akaashi was more reserved than the other pilots, much like Tsukishima, but he can remember their going away party on the beach, when Bokuto lifted them up and threw them into the ocean despite their protests. Akaashi rose from the water with a vengeance, chasing and hollering at Bokuto, pulling some cadets into the fray and tackling him into ‘his cold, sandy grave,’ as Akaashi had called the trench that had been dug earlier, face solemn and a shovel in his hands.

The cadets had buried Bokuto, leaving only his head exposed while he made mildly amused complaints. Sand boobs and a tail later, Bokuto was a sand mermaid. Akaashi had been fighting down laughter and failing, mouth twitching with the effort as they took a picture to send to Kuroo from Bokuto's phone. They had eventually given in when Bokuto noticed and the camera clicked just as he started yelling, capturing digital proof of Bokuto's defeat forever. Akaashi doubled over laughing, louder and more helplessly than any of the cadets had ever heard. It was a freeing sound Yamaguchi still remembered to this day.

“Well, I put some sense in him, at least,” Akaashi sighs, trailing their toes through the flux of the tide and smiling at the memory. “Koutarou was this headstrong, powerful and charismatic guy who could fill a room all on his own and got attention wherever he went, positive or negative. He was a hurricane of sorts—raw strength and ability with no direction. But that’s why we have co-pilots, right?”

Yamaguchi raises an eyebrow. “I thought it was because the neural load would be too much and kill the pilots?”

“That too,” Akaashi agrees. “But imagine the egos pilots would have if they didn’t have a partner to keep them in check. Who would look after them? How would they be able to make complex decisions or process massive loads of information on their own? Who else would be able to stand at their side if they didn’t have a co-pilot? The other Jaeger pilots would be rivals, after all.” Akaashi give Yamaguchi a significant look. “The pilot with the direction is just as important as the pilot with the power.”

“You look at me like I’m the one with direction,” Yamaguchi huffs, kicking at a lump of sand. “But Kei has it all—he’s got strength and strategy and direction and talent. I’ve only recently been better than a burden on him—just a mind to fill the empty space.”

It’s Akaashi’s turn to raise their eyebrow. “And I suppose Tsukishima could have handled the weight of his loss all by himself? Because he did _so well_ before you two started Ghost Drifting.”

Yamaguchi looks sheepish. “Yeah, but that doesn’t have anything to do with piloting. I’m his best friend; he should _want_ to confide in me.”

“On the contrary,” Akaashi argues. “It has everything to do with piloting. When Tsukishima broke your Drift—yes, I know, Saeko told me yesterday—it was because he was afraid, correct?”

“Afraid for me,” Yamaguchi replies glumly.

“See? That’s where you need to be the support,” Akaashi says. “Our co-pilots are brilliant, but they need our direction and input. Koutarou needed me to teach him how to wait and how to strategize. Tsukishima needs you to put his emotions in check and restrain him from hasty judgements. Tsukishima and Kageyama are very similar, too, I think, in that they choose to shoulder the entire burden instead of making it easier on everyone by evenly distributing the weight.”

Yamaguchi smiles at that. “Kei doesn’t do that anymore, I set him straight.” He puffs up his chest proudly and hops onto a long plank of driftwood, walking across it like a tightrope, arms out for balance.

“So I heard,” Akaashi says. “I’m glad you righted that imbalance; you can start acting as a real pilot now. Now that he will allow you to stand beside him, you can work on strengthening your bond through the Ghost Drift and fortifying your mind and body for piloting. You’ve been resting in his shadow, willingly or unwillingly, so it’s going to be harder for you from now on.”

Yamaguchi stumbles and Akaashi shoots out a hand to brace him. Yamaguchi grabs hold of his hand and smiles. “Thanks. I don’t really know what you mean by ‘it’s going to be harder,’ though.”

Akaashi hums, tapping their fingers against their chin. “Hmmm. Well, could you describe what it’s like for you in the Drift with him?”

Yamaguchi makes a face. “Not too pleasant, but that’s just Kei. His mind is chilling and overpowering. I usually get beaten around a bit before…wait, is that what you mean?”

Akaashi nods. “You’re getting it. I’m sure Kuroo and Kenma will tell you as well as Bokuto and I that although every connection is unique to the pilots, a well-formed and strong bond has a comfortable temperature and should feel as natural as breathing. Yours is too cold because of Tsukishima’s distrust of you—Kageyama is the same. Hinata, on the other hand is overeager, so he will probably burn his partner with the force of his desire to Drift. The rush you feel is due to an imbalance of power. Have you Drifted with Tsukishima since you resolved things?”

Yamaguchi shakes his head. Akaashi claps their hands together. “Ah! That should be the perfect opportunity to rework your connection. Tsukishima will be pretty confused, though—you’re going to have to lead him. Can you handle that?”

“I can,” Yamaguchi affirms. “I want to be there for him.”

“And you can,” Akaashi confirms. “Come see me on a few mornings like these; I’ll help you work on making your mind and body stronger. You’d be surprised, but your mind is actually weaker because of the battering Tsukishima’s given you—you’ll probably have trouble holding up a full connection.”

Yamaguchi hops off the driftwood. He turns to Akaashi, who is looking thoughtfully out across the ocean, hands crossed behind their back. Akaashi doesn’t even seem to notice that they’ve stopped walking, concentrated on some distant thought Yamaguchi can’t read from his face. “Akaashi-san?” He calls gently. Akaashi blinks and looks at him. “Thank you, for all of this,” he says, swallowing tightly. “This isn’t…you’re here because we were causing trouble for Kuroo-san and Kenma-san. You don’t have to take us under your wing, but you do anyway, even though we’re a pain. So just…thank you.”

Akaashi shakes their head. “Koutarou and I are the naturally care-giving type, as is Tetsurou, even though he’s more rough-around-the-edges. You’re no trouble to us—besides, we’re all fighting in this war, aren’t we? Senior pilots only hurt themselves and put the world at stake by abandoning their juniors. You’re a good kid, Yamaguchi. I only wish Tsukishima would let me in, as you do.”

Yamaguchi has to giggle at that. “He’s terrified of you. It’s kind of cute, like a kid with a crush. You should probably go talk to him.”

“Hmm, maybe,” Akaashi says. Their phone buzzes, and Akaashi checks it with a sigh. “I have to go. Koutarou is missing me. Please come see me again, Yamaguchi.”

Yamaguchi scuffs his foot in the sand. “You can…you can call me Tadashi, y’know? We’re not strangers.”

A soft laugh. “Very well. I’ll see you later, Tadashi.”

 

\----------------------------------------

 

“Oi, oi! Tsukishima! Hey, Tsukishima!”

A thousand lifetimes could pass and Tsukishima would still wince at his name being called by the same, overly excitable Bokuto-san he knew far too well. Maybe if he just pretends like he can’t hear him, Bokuto will go away, find a new target, _leave him alone_ …

A strong hand clamps down on his shoulder. Well, it was worth hoping.

“I heard Gold Strike was going through routine repairs today,” Bokuto informs him cheerfully, stopping up the entire busy hallway to announce something Tsukishima already knew.

He frowns. “So what?”

“Soooo…” Bokuto drawls, “we’re going, too! C’mon.” Tsukishima has half a word out in protest, but Bokuto grabs him by the collar of his jacket and forcefully drags him against the stream of people. Tsukishima swears loudly and bats Bokuto off of him.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” he spits, readjusting his jacket and flicking the sleeves back into place in irritation. “Though I don’t know why the _hell_ we’re going to watch the techs do some tests on Strike.”

“Watching? Oh, hell no. We’re going to be _helping_ them,” Bokuto corrects.

“…What?” Tsukishima says, sounding so scandalized Bokuto has to laugh.

“No, seriously,” Tsukishima repeats, slightly more desperate after any and all attempts to dissuade Bokuto from his course of action on the way to the Shatterdome failed miserably, “seriously, what are you talking about? I know you and Akaashi-san have your whole superstition about Jaegers and ‘feeling them out’ or whatever you call it, but I’m sure you’re _also_ aware that I think it’s complete and utter bullshit.”

“Relax, kid,” Bokuto calls behind him, making Tsukishima even more annoyed. “You could do with an engineering lesson, anyway. Not enough pilots appreciate all the hard work that goes into maintaining these hunks of metal. They just _drive_.”

“That’s because it’s our _job_ to drive those hunks of metal,” Tsukishima growls. “Mechanics and techs can’t just hop into Jaegers and pilot them, the Marshal needs certain people.”

“And _you_ couldn’t just hop into the place of a mechanic or technician and fix a damaged Jaeger,” Bokuto snipes back. “Hell, I hang out with those guys all the time and I _still_ don’t understand half the terminology they throw around.” He stops suddenly enough that Tsukishima nearly runs into him, and turns around.

“Everyone in this base is crucial to its functionality and the survival of our world,” Bokuto says, deadly serious. “You think losing a pilot is bad? Imagine losing Tanaka—hell, either of the Tanakas. You can always transfer in a new soldier; you can’t always replace the information our techs have worked for years and years to gain and understand.” Tsukishima gets a chill down his spine, that same chill he always gets when he forgets that Bokuto isn’t just a loud moron who’s piloted a lot, he’s an _insightful_ , loud moron who has piloted enough to know things about war and Jaegers and kaiju than Tsukishima will probably ever know.

“Besides,” Bokuto adds, smiling again, “you’re wrong about our job. It’s not our job to pilot the Jaegers; that’s only part of the job description. We’re supposed to save the world, and die for it if necessary.” He whistles happily and turns on his heel, making for Gold Strike, a wary Tsukishima trailing after him.

Tsukishima uselessly hopes that maybe the mechanics will stop Bokuto, tell him that it’s too dangerous for untrained personnel to help with Jaeger repair (and there he goes, proving Bokuto's point, dammit), but it’s a pointless exercise. Bokuto had spent his week since arriving at the base getting cozy with the Shatterdome workers. (Tsukishima wonders briefly if it was all for the purpose of whatever lesson Bokuto is planning on teaching him, but brushes the thought away. Bokuto didn’t think that far ahead, and Tsukishima couldn’t even tell what he was planning even if he did.)

Bokuto actually fist-bumps one of the mechanics on the way to construction platform. Tsukishima hates him, just a little bit.

Gamma Raptor is the only analog Jaeger at the base, so Tsukishima and Bokuto don’t need special gear to get near Strike’s energy core. At least that’s what Bokuto tells Tsukishima as they’re lifted up on the probably structurally unsound construction platform towards the heart of Tsukishima’s Jaeger. Part of his plating has been removed—a hatch, Tsukishima realizes—just large enough for a human to get through and perform repairs.

The platform is left hanging right in front of the hatch, and it is at that moment that Tsukishima develops a literally dizzying fear of heights. Moving upwards was tolerable if he didn’t think about it, but when the platform was left swaying in place, not much to speak in the way of guardrails, sixty meters above the hard ground, Tsukishima found it was best to sink to the floor and remain as stock still as possible.

Bokuto—the crazy bastard—didn’t seem to mind the safety violations or the unsteady nature of the lift. He hopped the gap between platform and hatch, landing lightly and safely inside Gold Strike. Given, the gap was only about two feet, but those were two feet of empty air and certain death, so Tsukishima wasn’t feeling too great about his odds.

“Hurry up!” Bokuto calls, like dangling in the air wasn’t anything to be particularly worried about. Well, _Tsukishima_ was worried about it, and he had no plans to move from his position of relative safety, sweat beading on his brow. Why did _he_ have to look after their Jaeger? Yamaguchi had been doing early morning yoga or something with Akaashi for the past week to “strengthen his mind and body,” whatever that meant. And here Tsukishima was, saying his final prayers.

Bokuto sighed when it appeared no amount of goading Tsukishima on would get him to move. “Don’t you ever want to Drift well with your co-pilot?” He sighs, disappointed.

Tsukishima jerks his head up. “I _do_ , and that’s why I’m saving my fucking neck and not _risking my life_ just to look at my Jaeger!” He snaps, stopping himself with a frustrated inhale and exhale. Even if he was scared, he should never treat his superior with such disrespect. “There’s plenty you can teach me, Bokuto-san, when we’re safely on the ground.”

Bokuto shakes his head. “Not like this. This is something you need to see. This is something _every_ pilot should see, but you need it more than anyone else,” he assures Tsukishima. “Please, can you trust me?” Bokuto peers at him earnestly, offering a hand.

Tsukishima glares miserably across the distance between them. Bokuto's posture is open, friendly—he honestly does want Tsukishima to see this ‘something.’ Tsukishima pinches the bridge of his nose, but then steadies himself, standing. The lift sways and he grasps at the chain like a lifeline, knuckles white and breathing heavily.

“Come on,” Bokuto calls again, softer, and Tsukishima glares harder at him.

“Just…just get out of the way,” he manages, staring directly through the gap and to the tiny ant-people below him with increasing fear.

“No chance,” Bokuto scoffs. “Look at me. Tsukishima, look at me.”

Tsukishima finally tears his eyes away from the danger and fixes his frightened gaze on Bokuto. “Don’t look down,” Bokuto coaxes, as if he were a child. “Just let go of the chain and jump. Overdo it if you have to. I’ll make sure you don’t fall.”

 _This is so stupid_ , a distant part of Tsukishima hisses, but right now he just wants to get off the lift and into the belly of his Jaeger, which at least didn’t _wobble_. He swallows once, twice, then lets go of the chain and jumps the small distance, legs giving out as he lands safely, a meter into the hatch. He stumbles to his hands and knees, scurrying away from the opening and panting, but okay. Bokuto gives him a hand up, and he’s polite enough not to comment on how sweaty Tsukishima’s hand is.

“Knew you could do it,” Bokuto says, proud as a father, and Tsukishima can’t stop himself from socking Bokuto in the shoulder. “Ow!” He yelps.

“That’s for treating me like a kid,” Tsukishima mutters under his breath.

“Heh, got you to jump though, didn’t I?” Bokuto replies, taking the lead down the minimally lit corridor and into the heart of Gold Strike. “Looks like you do trust me.”

“You’re my senior officer, do I really have a choice?” Tsukishima snips, but he and Bokuto know it’s true.

They have to walk past thick sheets of metal acting as a shield for Strike’s more delicate insides before they actually reach the center of the Jaeger. It’s strange, Tsukishima thinks. Even though he can feel every part of Strike’s body like it’s his own, he never really noticed how massive Strike was until he was up close. Tsukishima wasn’t even tall enough to lift himself onto the top of Strike’s foot. And now, walking through his structure, Tsukishima feels a grudging sense of appreciation for the designers of Jaegers, to think of all the screws and wires and passageways for mechanics and techs and out of place pilots on the inside.

They reach an open, several level column space that had in its center a sealed off block where a bunch of hazmat-covered Jaeger technicians could be seen through the windows. Inside the block, Tsukishima could see it, massive and glistening silver—Gold Strike’s energy core.

“Bigger than you expected?” Bokuto guesses from the way Tsukishima takes a hold of the railing and leans forward, eyes not moving from the tiniest view of his Jaeger’s heart. Tsukishima nods absentmindedly.

“Yeah, way bigger. That’s his heart?” Tsukishima’s voice sounds about as near awed as he can manage. Bokuto understands the feeling. He remembers seeing just the light from Gamma’s nuclear reactor core and gripping Akaashi’s arm so tightly it had to hurt, asking them over and over if that was really her. Jaegers are just machines until a pilot really, _really_ gets close to them, enough to feel as if their heart could be pulled straight from their chest and join with the Jaeger’s.

“I’m jealous of you,” Bokuto says quietly, finally drawing Tsukishima’s attention away from the Jaeger. “I can’t get anywhere near Gamma’s heart. The threat of nuclear radiation is too great, they say, like I’m not going to die from the effects of piloting if I don’t die in battle,” he scoffs. “You could throw on a suit and probably _touch_ his core, without doing too much to yourself, you know.”

Tsukishima looks at Bokuto for a long moment. “Maybe there are some things that just aren’t meant to be known, like kaiju or the other side of the Breach,” Tsukishima says equally as quietly. “And stop talking about death, Bokuto-san, it’s annoying. I don’t go out there expecting to die—I go out there expecting to bash and get bashed around by an alien, then go home and eat dinner.”

Bokuto smiles. “I knew you were alright, Tsukishima Kei.”

Tsukishima hums in affirmation and goes back to looking at his Jaeger, fingers twitching in dead giveaway of his desire to get close to the Jaeger, despite his kicking and screaming. Bokuto nudges him. “Follow me; I haven’t showed you anything yet.”

Tsukishima has to hand it to Bokuto—he does know his way around a Jaeger, even an unfamiliar one. He shows Tsukishima the ‘muscles’ of his Jaeger: long lines of massive engines sitting side-by-side and humming loud enough for them to need earplugs. And that was just on standby. Bokuto actually found an engine that wasn’t functioning at full capacity just by listening to the hum it made, head tilted to the side and eyes fixed in a far-off stare of concentration.

“That one was whining,” he tells Tsukishima after they notify a mechanic. “They should all make a melodious hum with no breaks or alterations in the pattern. If there’s one out of time of making a weird noise, it needs to be fixed.”

“Next you’ll be telling me how to fix one of those engines,” Tsukishima mutters.

Bokuto laughs. “Whoa, I’m not quite there yet. I’m trying to learn from my buddy Komi, but it still all goes over my head.”

Bokuto shows him to the ‘nerves’ of the Jaeger, a collection of colossal columns of thick wires running to all corners of the Jaeger. Each column had a rainbow of colored and patterned wires, each one presumably corresponding to a different function of the Jaeger. “Don’t touch ‘em,” Bokuto warns. “They’re pretty hot to the touch, but they need to be. If you find any cold wires, that means they aren’t sending information as effectively or at all.” Above and below them, massive fan blades stir the boiling, stagnant air of the room.

“I’ve got one more thing to show you,” Bokuto says. “And trust me when I say you’re going to _love_ this one.” He’s practically skipping up the stairs to their next destination, Tsukishima trailing behind, hot and tired from the heat Strike gave off and the overload of information he was receiving. It was amazing, though. Gold Strike gave off heat like any living organism would, burning fuel and electricity rather than metabolizing sugars. And with the hiss and whir all around him, Tsukishima could almost pretend like Strike was breathing…

“Hurry up, Tsukishima!” Bokuto yells from the top of the stairs. Tsukishima clicks his tongue.

However, despite how annoying Bokuto could be, he wasn’t wrong in thinking their final stop was cool. The room at the top of the stairs was another open area directly above Strike’s core, where it was clear from the mess of gears and wires that this place was where the magic happened, so to speak. At the crux of all the overlapping technology and hissing hydraulics were connections linking the movements of the command platform up in Strike’s head with the rest of his body. Every movement that Tsukishima and Yamaguchi made in the Conn-Pod would be transferred down through this one area and to the energy core, which would then be translated into Jaeger movement, with not even an eye blink of difference between the two.

“Pretty cool, huh?” Bokuto says excitedly.

 _Yeah_. “It’s kind of interesting,” Tsukishima grants, unwilling to give Bokuto the satisfaction of Tsukishima’s awe.

Bokuto rolls his eyes and huffs. “Honestly, you’re no fun! But you see…” Bokuto begins, eyeing Tsukishima thoughtfully. “Showing you all of this…you now see that your Jaeger is more than just a machine, right?”

Tsukishima sighs but nods. “There’s a lot more to it than I had thought, I’ll give you that. I don’t really understand how this is supposed to help me Drift with Tadashi, though.”

“Still missing the point,” Bokuto hums in a sing-song voice. “A Jaeger is not just a tool used to win. There are parts to it you don’t understand, parts that might be broken in places you don’t know to look for. On the outside, the Jaeger may function fine, but it’s the inside that you really need to take a closer look at. If you don’t care for your Jaeger to the fullest of your ability, how can you expect it to keep working for you?”

“Bokuto-san,” Tsukishima growls, “I get it. I’ll look after my Jaeger more often and I’ll stop treating him like he’s less important than a pil—” Tsukishima freezes. Goes over his entire conversation with Bokuto once. Twice. But there was no way, right? There was no way that Bokuto had brought Tsukishima up here just so he could construct an elaborate metaphor about how Tsukishima needed to take care of his co-pilot, right?

“There are a lot of things I don’t know about my Jaeger,” Bokuto says. “Like you said, I don’t know how to fix everything, but I’m trying my best. You should do the same, Tsukishima. You don’t need to treat him like he’s something fragile—god knows Strike’s plating can take some damage—but you also need to treat him like he’s a fully-fledged member of your team, and look after him.”

“We…we are still talking about Jaegers, right?” Tsukishima asks weakly.

Bokuto shrugs. “I’m only here to offer advice. How and if you take it is up to you, of course.” Tsukishima’s head is spinning.

“Bokuto-san…”

“Just remember that in the Drift, there should be no secrets between you and you co-pilot, no matter how hard you want to keep some things hidden away forever—even from yourself,” Bokuto warns. “You can’t run from your past, so you might as well accept it and move on. He’s your other half, and if he’s forgiven you thus far, he’ll forgive you again.”

“What the hell are you even saying?” Tsukishima grumbles. “Tadashi and I know each other well now; we’ve resolved our problems.”

Bokuto holds up his hands defensively. “All I’m saying is that you can’t let the past hang over your head. You just need to accept it and move on, that’s all I’m saying.” He pauses and shoots Tsukishima a mischievous grin. “Let’s take the elevator down this time, shall we?”

Tsukishima’s entire face goes blank. “Bokuto-san, are you telling me that there was a safe alternative to that hazardous swinging board from _hell_ the whole time, and we didn’t take it? Think very carefully before you answer me.”

“Well, I guess that’s my signal to go,” Bokuto chirps, turning on his heel and sprinting out of the room as Tsukishima takes a menacing step forward. Tsukishima snarls and gives chase.

“ _You can kiss Akaashi-san goodbye!_ ”

 

\--------------------------------------------

 

The years of Tsukishima’s life lost to that perilous lift of death and the fear it caused him are _almost_ worth the pained yelp from Bokuto when Tsukishima doesn’t hold back from socking him in the arm.

Punching Bokuto had certainly gotten him a few weird looks when it was known well enough that Bokuto was Tsukishima’s superior. He had blushed but not apologized, sticking his nose up in the air and walked away, only offering a wave of acknowledgement when Bokuto called to him that he’d see him tomorrow.

That whole experience was worth his time. Probably. It’s not like he hadn’t known that he needed to change the way he treated Yamaguchi, but it was somewhat comforting to hear from someone with more experience than him that what he was doing now, treating Yamaguchi like an equal, was the right thing to do. In the past, it had always been _well, that’s good enough_ or _this is the best you can do, so we’ll take it_ , and that was incredibly frustrating. Tsukishima wasn’t particularly attached to piloting, but he wasn’t doing this for himself, either. He wanted to do the best he could for Akiteru and Yamaguchi, to protect them, even if there was nothing he could do for one of them and the other rode beside him into battle.

Tsukishima sighs. He’s had enough of piloting talk for today, anyway. He wants to nap and possibly see if he can convince Yamaguchi to read to him, mostly because Yamaguchi’s voice was soothing enough to knock him right out and he often took to absentmindedly petting Tsukishima’s hair while he read. Tsukishima steps out of the Shatterdome and heads for his quarters.

“Tsukishima.”

He jumps a foot in the air at _that_ voice, sending chills running down his spine. Akaashi steps from the shadows of a darker, more deserted hallway, leaning casually against the wall, an almost-smile playing at the corners of their mouth in amusement. They’re dressed in more casual Ranger attire today—Tsukishima hadn’t seen them since they first arrived, and purposefully so—bomber jacket unzipped at the neck, revealing their shiny black and gold dogtags and collarbones that could cut a man…

Tsukishima looks away. “Akaashi-san,” he acknowledges tightly.

“I hope Koutarou treated you well,” they hum thoughtfully. “I told him not to terrorize you more than necessary.”

“Yeah, well,” Tsukishima grumbles. “He gave me a lot of trouble.” _Stiff and rude…what was he doing?_

Akaashi sighs. “Inevitable, I guess. He’s really very fond of you, though, I hope you won’t hold it against him.”

“I punched him in the arm hard. Twice. We’re even,” Tsukishima replies. Akaashi raises both eyebrows in what might constitute surprise.

There’s a beat of awkward silence between them. Tsukishima vividly remembers why he hates talking with Akaashi. Even in a situation like this, where their junior officer just admitted to _physically assaulting_ his superior, Akaashi looks calm and collected, ready to handle any kind of crisis in the world with poise and dignity. Could nothing throw them off their game? It was frustrating. What were they even doing here? Just checking in?

“Are you here to gloat?” Tsukishima snaps, patience wearing thin and paranoia eating at him, as it always did when Akaashi was around. “Are you here to tell me that you and Bokuto-san were right all those years ago, and that we should have Ghost Drifted from the start?”

That, at least provokes a reaction. Akaashi furrows their brow, looking worried. “No,” they reply slowly. “No, not at all. We each have our own journeys—if you had Ghost Drifted at that time, it very well could have been a disaster. Why would you think that?”

Smart, that’s the thing—they’re too fucking _smart_. Tsukishima is used to being the most intelligent one in the room. He’d been the top of his class all through middle school and high school, and even in cadet training he had breezed through, snaring the top spot with little difficulty. He was used to being the smartest, the most level-headed, the devil’s advocate when need be…but when Akaashi was in the room, he was second best. Tsukishima didn’t hold a grudge against Akaashi for it; it was only common sense that Akaashi was more experienced and talented than he, given their differences, but what frustrated Tsukishima was that Akaashi did everything better than him while also being a better person than Tsukishima.

On the surface, both of them seemed to be the cold and unapproachable type, but Akaashi was quietly friendly and had an excellent understanding of human nature, high emotional intelligence. They could strategize without antagonizing others or invalidating their ideas. No one was ever _angry_ with Akaashi, or hated them. Tsukishima rubbed people the wrong way left and right, picked fights when he shouldn’t, and still found himself defeated by people like Hinata or Bokuto when statistically, he should come out on top.

At least, that’s what it had been in the past. Now, Tsukishima just found himself wary around Akaashi because of how deeply they understood Tsukishima without him ever having to open himself up to Akaashi. He was afraid that Akaashi would see something in him that Tsukishima didn’t want them to see and…what? Be disappointed in him? Stop watching him from across the room, like he was a particularly interesting puzzle to solve?

“What do you want, Akaashi-san?” Tsukishima asks tiredly. He can’t play mind games, not against this opponent.

“Ah…yes, about that,” Akaashi starts hesitantly, the unsureness in their voice drawing Tsukishima’s eyes to them. Akaashi is rubbing at their neck awkwardly, looking—dare he say it—embarrassed. They meet Tsukishima’s eyes and look away. Tsukishima feels his face heat up. _What the hell was going on?_

“Tadashi…said I should talk to you,” Akaashi admits. “I probably should have before we left.”

Tsukishima’s not sure why his heart is beating so fast. “What did he say to you?” His voice comes out breathier than he intends.

“Um.” _Um? Did **Akaashi Keiji** actually use the word ‘um’?_ Tsukishima is incredulous. “He said…that you were scared of me. I’ve always thought you hated me, so I was rather surprised. I just wanted…to make things right between us, I suppose.”

Tsukishima snorts. “Hate you? Why the hell would I hate you? And I’m not scared of you, either,” he adds too quickly for it to be anything but a lie. And it is a lie. Akaashi _does_ terrify him. Their calm, sharp wit; their elegant, purposeful movements; the way Akaashi drew their fingers along their neck and tugged at the bottom of their hair—that was terrifying to Tsukishima.

Akaashi give him a suspicious look. “Then why did you always avoid me?"

Tsukishima looks away and locks his jaw. He doesn’t have an answer, mostly because he doesn’t have a straight answer himself. He’s a jumble of emotions, a complete wreck. He can’t understand why looking at Akaashi or being in his presence hurts, but the thought of having their eyes off of him hurts even more.

“Tsukishima,” Akaashi calls softly, pushing off the wall. They move closer to Tsukishima, so close Tsukishima wants to back away and run but is frozen in place. Akaashi really does look worried, tilting their head to the side and looking intently at Tsukishima. They reach a hand to touch him or get his attention and Tsukishima flinches away from the movement.

Akaashi sighs. “Can you really blame me for thinking you hate me? Every time I try to get closer to you, you push me further and further away. I…” Akaashi clenches their hands into fists and looks away. Tsukishima regards them quietly. “I have faith in your team with Yamaguchi. I truly believe that both of you can become the next main team this base has, with enough training by the two senior teams here. I believe that we can leave this base in the capable hands of your team and Hinata’s, but especially…”

Akaashi shrugs one shoulder, the most indecisive Tsukishima had ever seen them. “I especially believe that _you_ could lead the four rookie pilots. You’ve got the skills, the calmness, and the ability to command attention and respect, even if you don’t realize it. Call it a hunch.” Akaashi meets Tsukishima’s eyes. “But it’s terribly hard to tell you all this and guide you on your way when all you do is run from me, Tsukishima. In all the years I’ve been piloting, you’re the one mystery I have yet to figure out.” They laugh, just a little.

“I’m intimidated by you,” Tsukishima blurts out. Akaashi blinks in surprise.

“I…shit,” Tsukishima swears, trying to look anywhere but right in front of him. “I’ve always admired you as a Ranger, sought to emulate your method of piloting and leadership, but it was _frustrating_ because we just aren’t the same, and you always looked at me like I meant something—I was probably afraid to disappoint you. I _am_ afraid to disappoint you,” he sighs. “I’m not the pilot you’re hoping I am.”

Akaashi stretches a hand out again, and this time, Tsukishima doesn’t flinch away, but lets their palm fall gently against his cheek. He’s immensely glad that the hallway is deserted. “You are,” Akaashi assures him. “I know; I’ve seen your interactions with the other pilots. The base will look to you and Hinata when my team and Kenma’s team are gone.”

Tsukishima shakes his head slowly. “We fight. It’s ugly. I don’t like either of them—I don’t like interacting with anyone other than Tadashi.” Akaashi’s giving him that look again, the searching and knowing one, the one that says they know more about Tsukishima than he knows about himself. “What?” He growls. “Why do you always _look_ at me like that?”

“You’re a born leader,” Akaashi declares confidently. “I’ll help you get there, if you stop pushing me away.” The confidence bleeds into their eyes, less sleepy and impassive and more firm, serious. The hand on Tsukishima’s cheek is steady and he can hear the pulse in those veins, higher than normal but strong. Akaashi was so, so beautiful, and Tsukishima was thoroughly fucked.

“Depends,” he manages to choke out, voice almost gravelly from his fried nerves. “Are you going to keep looking at me like I’m a specimen under the glass?”

“Not if you let me in,” Akaashi murmurs. “I won’t have to try and figure you out.”

“I’m notoriously bad at letting people into my head,” Tsukishima says, matching the lowness of Akaashi’s voice. “Took me forever to really allow Tadashi to get close.”

“Then it’s a good thing I’m good at getting under people’s skin,” Akaashi says, and Tsukishima stops fighting himself and kisses them, pushing them back into the darkness of the dim, abandoned hallway with the momentum of the kiss. Akaashi’s back hits the wall with a thud that can’t be completely painless, but Tsukishima can’t seem to _stop_ , dragging his fingers up through that mess of hair that drove him crazy when he was younger, nipping at Akaashi’s lip like it’s the only thing keeping him alive. Akaashi runs their hands up under Tsukishima’s shirt, scratching at him and pulling him closer with a shuffle and _swish_ of clothes and skin. _Stupid, stupid…you were already under my skin._

The feeling clawing at Tsukishima’s throat and freezing his muscles lets go in a rush and he, too, is shoving open Akaashi’s bomber jacket so that he can get at their neck, sucking and nipping at the dip between their collarbone and neck. Akaashi pants and throws their head back, smacking the wall. Tsukishima bites just a little, enough to make Akaashi wince but not enough to cry out, licking away the burn so that they just sighed into his hair. _Was this what it was the whole time? No…the fear of disappointing Akaashi was still very real. But so was the desire to make them melt underneath Tsukishima’s touch, to reduce them to whimpers, to keep their eyes on him and not be afraid of losing their attention._

“Talk to me,” Akaashi gasps. “No…Ghost Drift…tell me what you’re thinking, Tsukishima.” Tsukishima releases their neck, red and raw and meets Akaashi’s eyes, a haze of pleasure clouding their sharpness.

“Kei,” he rumbles, leaning in to press their foreheads together. “Tadashi and I are your protégés…call us by our given names. _Kei_.”

“Kei,” Akaashi whispers, pressing their lips to Tsukishima’s as they speak, shaping his own name on his lips. Tsukishima feels goosebumps rise all over his body. Akaashi grins wickedly and pushes him back, shoving his shirt up and over his head. Tsukishima struggles in getting it over his head, but Akaashi’s already on him, running his hands down Tsukishima’s chest and over his abdomen. Tsukishima gasps, still caught with the shirt over his head, but Akaashi shushes him, pinning him against the wall with their hips.

Tsukishima finally just rips the shirt off himself so he can kiss Akaashi, filthier than before, one hand forcing them to tilt their head up and the other holding onto their hip firmly. Akaashi parts their lips and Tsukishima tilts their head so that he can run his tongue along the roof of Akaashi’s mouth, feeling the senior pilot shudder against him with the motion. Akaashi chases Tsukishima’s tongue with their own, licking and sucking his bottom lip into their mouth, hands running up and down the back of Tsukishima’s thighs teasingly. Tsukishima bucks against their hips once, pressing twin hard-ons together in a glorious moment of pleasure before he flips their positions, dragging Akaashi’s hands above their head and pinning them there, a leg between their thighs.

He’s just about to give Akaashi a taste of their own medicine when the sounds of laughter echo from the main hallway, and he freezes. Akaashi tilts their head to the side, regards the hallway with disinterest, and then turns back to Tsukishima. “Did you want me, Kei?” They whisper, as if afraid to break the tension between them with too loud a voice. “Back then, did you want me like this?”

It’s not dirty talk—well, maybe a little bit—but for the most part Akaashi just wants to know. Tsukishima considers what Bokuto said about accepting the past and moving on. Akaashi was…they were… “I want you now,” Tsukishima whispers back, and Akaashi shivers despite themself. “I didn’t know what I wanted back then, all I knew is that I always wanted your attention on me, yet feared it. I want you _now_ ,” he presses. _Then I can move on,_ Tsukishima thinks. _I will no longer fear you and we can finally stand together—you, me, Tadashi, and Bokuto-san._

Akaashi laughs, suddenly, breaking the seriousness of the situation. Tsukishima sighs in annoyance and presses his face into Akaashi’s shoulder. “Come on,” Akaashi huffs in amusement. “I’m not going to have sex in a hallway, no matter how good-looking you are. I’m the guardian of you fledglings, not a prostitute.”

“Pretty fucked-up way of taking care of us,” Tsukishima mutters, picking up his shirt but not putting it on. They both looked wrecked enough for it to be obvious that they were fooling around. Tsukishima finds that he can’t care when Akaashi leans into his shoulder and he feels like for the first time since they’ve known each other, they’re standing on even ground.

“Will Tadashi be upset by this?” Tsukishima asks too late, after the fact. He’s lying sprawled across Akaashi and Bokuto's shared bed, head pillowed on Akaashi’s stomach. They were both naked and relaxed as lionesses sprawled out for a nap, but Akaashi was at least decent, tucked under a sheet. They run their fingers through Tsukishima’s hair occasionally, reading. The irony of the situation is not lost on Tsukishima.

“Mmm?” Akaashi mumbles, lifting their book and peering at Tsukishima over their reading glasses. “What was that?”

Tsukishima runs his eyes over the lovely porcelain tone of their skin, blinking once before repeating his question. “Do you think Tadashi will be upset that we slept together?”

Akaashi hums thoughtfully. “You tell me; you’re his partner.” Tsukishima nips at Akaashi’s fingers petulantly and is smacked by Akaashi’s _hardcover_ book in response.

“Yes, but I don’t know his recent closeness with you will affect how he feels about this,” Tsukishima sighs.

“So you _are_ planning on telling him,” Akaashi says, sounding pleased. “That’s good.”

Tsukishima scowls. “Did you think I wouldn’t after all we’ve suffered through because of keeping things from each other?”

“No,” Akaashi disagrees. “I suspected you would, which is the only reason I agreed in the first place. If he’s angry, you will face the consequences of your actions. If he’s understanding, then I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“Bokuto-san said that I should accept my past and move on,” Tsukishima says after a moment.

Akaashi makes a noise of recognition. “Yes, that’s what I told him when I found out that he had been sleeping with Tetsurou and trying to keep it from me. We haven’t had any secrets between us since.”

“He still sleeps with Kuroo-san,” Tsukishima says bluntly.

Akaashi puts his book down and rolls his eyes. “I’m aware of that, Kei. Koutarou loves both of us very much, just in different ways. He won’t ever part from me—we are bonded down to the soul, but Tetsurou is his best friend.”

“His best friend that he has sex with,” Tsukishima repeats. Akaashi smacks him with the book again. “Stop that!” Tsukishima hisses. “I’m just trying to wrap my head around it, that’s all.”

“Go home,” Akaashi sighs fondly. “Talk to Tadashi. You’ll understand.”

Tsukishima allows himself to be kicked out, Akaashi kissing him on the cheek as he leaves. Tsukishima hesitates just outside Akaashi’s door. “This…this was a one-time deal, wasn’t it, Keiji-san?” Akaashi makes a shooing motion.

“I will always be here for you, Kei. But I think you’ll find everything you need on your own,” he says. “Goodbye, Kei.”

When Tsukishima shows up at their quarters, far later than he should have, even for hanging out with Bokuto, Yamaguchi is already cooking dinner, his tongue poked out the corner of his mouth. He looks up when Tsukishima slinks in, opens his mouth to say something, then catches sight of how mussed Tsukishima’s hair is and laughs lightly.

“So you finally stopped dancing around Akaashi-san, huh?” Tsukishima gapes, and Yamaguchi just rolls his eyes. “Oh please, don’t give me that look. Your pointed avoidance of them and then inability to look away from them when you two were in the same room? Pretty obvious, Kei.”

Tsukishima wants to say something along the lines of _I’m sorry_ but he’s not. It was something he had to do to understand himself and to understand Akaashi, the final piece of the puzzle of his past. _Accept your past and move on_. He had enough new puzzles to figure out in Hinata and Kageyama and Akaashi’s plan to make him and Yamaguchi the next main team.

Yamaguchi’s presence is warm across the Ghost Drift, patiently awaiting his response. Tsukishima comes up behind him and tucks his chin over Yamaguchi’s shoulder, humming thoughtfully. Yes, Akaashi was something beautiful and impossible to truly grasp in his hands, an ideal to be sought after, but he had something even more precious in his best friend and his soulmate—he was lucky enough to have both of those in the same person.

“Maybe,” Tsukishima murmurs. “In another life and another time, maybe.”

But Yamaguchi recognizes the image of sunlight dappled water and a smile dancing across Tsukishima’s mind, and he smiles just as brightly, leaning into Tsukishima and humming to himself.

 

\----------------------------------------

 

Hinata is next on the list.

Bokuto doesn’t even have to hunt the smallest pilot down; rather, Hinata is bouncing off the walls at the chance to get to practice alongside a living legend. From what Kuroo and Hinata’s file said, he had trouble Drifting, but with his type of outgoing personality and crazy sync scores in the past, Bokuto has no doubt that Hinata will be able to figure it out on his own. Bokuto decides that he has to do reconnaissance on his own and chooses the most fun thing he can think of to start.

“Hey, Hinata!” Bokuto calls. “D’you wanna go to the simulators with me?”

“Uuuuoooo! Is it really okay if I join you, Bokuto-san?” Hinata asks, eyes sparkling.

“’Course it is!” Bokuto declares, puffing himself up. “I haven’t been down there in forever…it used to be my favorite place on base. Promise not to show me up too badly?” Bokuto asks, winking at Hinata.

“No promises!” Hinata declares. “Follow me; they’re down this way.”

The simulators aren’t much more high-tech than Bokuto remembers them. They may have a few more options available in the way of weapons, but overall, Bokuto would have to say that he’ll have no trouble adjusting to the difference. Hinata, having been a regular visitor in the past, chats up the techs running the simulators.

The purpose of the simulators is to test how well cadets can handle a Jaeger without actually going through all the trouble if putting them in one and finding them a co-pilot. Obviously, the simulators couldn’t reproduce the sensation of the Drift or the weight—both physical and mental—of controlling a several thousand ton robot, but they did the best they could in predicting a cadet’s aptitude in the Jaeger, which, when combined with the sync score of a cadet from the test Drift, determined their position in the rotations. Hinata could still remember when his simulator and sync score were everything to him, his lifeline to the Jaeger Program.

He has to pause for a moment, actually. It’s a wave of bitter nostalgia, but it’s still an important stepping stone that got him from recruit, to potential pilot, to _actual_ pilot, to one that had made successful kills. He had saved the world, and it all began in this room, where he sweated and fought for his perfect simulator score to counterbalance his abysmal sync score.

“Do you remember coming in here, during training?” Hinata asks Bokuto, voice thick with emotion.

Bokuto cocks his head to the side. “Huh? Oh, no. Keiji and I are like Tetsurou and Kenma—once they found out we were Drift compatible, we were thrown right into training, no questions asked. You rookie pilots got all this special training shit after our time.”

Hinata gives him a twisted smile. “That might be to your benefit,” he sighs, but lights up with a new thought. “Say, what was your simulator score?”

“Perfect, of course,” Bokuto boasts, rolling his shoulders. “Aren’t all Jaeger pilots’?”

“Guess we’ll see,” Hinata challenges him, earning a laugh. True, the simulators were designed to test aptitude, but…that didn’t mean they couldn’t be turned into a tournament between two accomplished Rangers.

They get the simulator techs to set them up with the same scenario and link their coms so that they can shit talk each other while killing kaiju in a race to see who could do it the fastest. It was like a video game, Hinata thought, the way they yelled at each other and compared battle techniques. The technicians didn’t like it; they wanted Bokuto and Hinata to take it more seriously, but it was nigh impossible to say no to the twin puppy dog eyes of their superiors. _Why are all the Rangers so weird?_ They’d mutter amongst themselves after caving to said pilots’ demands.

Strangely enough, Hinata found that his and Bokuto’s style of fighting were very comparable. Both of them favored raw power and direct attacks rather than the distanced, careful attacks of Tsukishima and Akaashi. They were both rather brash in their strategies, putting their jaegers in danger and taking chances rather than playing it safe. But it was strange, also, to see how their strategies differed as a result of connection with their respective partners. Bokuto would sometimes pass up a chance to attack to observe the situation instead. Hinata performed some tricky maneuvers that he had learned from Kageyama.

In the end, they lost track of the winner, Hinata with quicker kills and Bokuto with less damage or fatalities to his Jaeger. They rolled out of the simulators cheerful and exhausted, their brains worn out from having to balance instinct with strategy.

“Man, what a good run,” Bokuto sighs gratefully, slinging an arm around Hinata’s shoulder. “I haven’t had to push myself like that since _Keiji_ came around.”

Hinata nods excitedly. “Your uppercut attack was so… _psheewww_ ,” he babbles. “It was so risky because the kaiju’s tail could have come around and gotten you, but you knocked it out with a _gwah_!”

“Well, the way you knocked the six-legged one off its feet was all _pchoooo_ and _frrrpp-thunk_!” Bokuto says. “Then—then with the _skrrrick_ and _shhpp_ and it was dead!”

Hinata bounces in place. “And—and—! _Pchow!_ _Fwoosh!_ _Gyack!_ ”

Bokuto does his booming laugh again, the one that shakes the entire building and makes everyone do a double-take of them, but Hinata just feels warm inside. “Finally,” Bokuto sighs, wiping tears from his eyes. “Finally, someone who speaks _Japanese_. Even Tetsu wouldn’t be able to understand all that.”

“Bokuto-san is so cool!” Hinata replies. “You can do anything, I’d bet.”

Bokuto nods. “Yep, I won’t deny that. But that’s because I’ve got Keiji at my side,” he qualifies. “I couldn’t do everything on my own. Your co-pilot is your most important ally.” Hinata looks sheepishly at his feet, and Bokuto senses that this is a rough subject. “Say, though…would you like to learn some meditation techniques?”

Hinata looks up at that. “Meditation?” He asks curiously.

“Yeah…the one problem I’ve always had with piloting is that I let my emotions take control of me too easily,” Bokuto explains, leading Hinata in the direction of the Kwoon Room. “Keiji pointed it out in me and helped me find a way to rein in my emotions when necessary. I picked meditation, and since we’re so similar, I think it might work for you, too.”

“It’s true, I do tend to get excited about stuff too often,” Hinata admits, “but I always thought that could be used as a weapon. Piloting gets me super fired up, so I get Kageyama and Omega fired up too, and then we function smoother overall as a team.”

“That’s a good thing,” Bokuto agrees. “But imagine if you were overwhelmingly scared or blinded by anger, or maybe an outside situation throws off the intensity of your Drift? If you get too used to the wild energy, then not having it will mean your Drift is more likely to fail. Also, your common sense, strategy, and instinct can get overwhelmed by the weight of emotion. That’s why guys like us have to learn how to direct our emotion and put the brakes on it when necessary.”

Hinata hums thoughtfully. “Okay, I think I understand.”

“Seems weird, huh?” Bokuto grins. “But I promise it works. You’ll be even more dangerous if you can funnel your emotions into one task when you need to, or shut them down in a situation where you need to think clearly. Kageyama will depend on you more, too, I think,” he adds. Hinata stiffens. “Yeah, thought that might have been a problem. It’s okay though; we all go through rough spots. I’m sure Keiji will talk to him.”

“I hope so,” Hinata murmurs. “I don’t know what to do anymore.”

“This is perfect, though!” Bokuto says. “You’re feeling down, so I’ll teach you how to keep that from affecting your thinking!”

“Can you really?” Hinata asks tentatively.

“Sure! ‘Course! Step one is trusting in me to get you there. Do you trust me?”

Hinata smiles and takes the hand Bokuto is offering him. Bokuto’s hand is strong and calloused after years of fighting, and just as burning hot as Hinata’s. He squeezes Bokuto’s with his tiny hand, much softer and not yet accustomed to war. He nods.

“I do.”

 

\----------------------------------------------

 

Kageyama knows this wing of the hospital on base like the back of his hand. Speckled linoleum floors, dirt in the edges where wall met tile. Peeling wallpaper, yellow primer beneath the hideous purple and green flowers patterning the wallpaper. Clinical fluorescent lights above, shining down to give everything in the hallway a sickly pallor. Room upon empty room lining the halls, unused except for accidents within the Shatterdome or during training. And a single pilot, cooped up in the silence for over a month.

Yet, Kageyama couldn’t find it in him to visit Koushi. What if he was still in fragile condition? What if he blamed the other pilots for Daichi’s death? What if he didn’t want to see Kageyama, didn’t want to hear about his pathetic, minor problems when Koushi’s were so much greater? What if, what if, what if…the questions haunted him, left him pacing a single hallway away from his senior officer, yearning to see him but not quite sure _how_.

“Hinata said I’d find you here,” Akaashi says, making Kageyama flinch in surprise. He meets the transfer’s eyes nervously, guiltily, like he’s committed some kind of crime by wandering down to the hospital.

Akaashi looks down the hallway with him. “That’s where Sugawara is,” they say, not a question. Kageyama nods anyway. “You don’t visit?” Kageyama shakes his head.

“Can’t bring myself to,” he murmurs. “What can I do other than say ‘I’m sorry’? Suga-san doesn’t deserve that insincere, meaningless apology.”

“He was your mentor,” Akaashi says softly. “I’m sure he would be grateful just to see that you’re doing okay.”

 _Am I, though?_ Kageyama wonders. He was on unsteady ground with Hinata, _still_ , even if they seemed to be getting better at Drifting. He wanted Koushi to tell him what to do, tell him how to make things go back to normal, back when they inhaled and exhaled as one. “I don’t want to bother him,” he replies. “My problems shouldn’t burden his mind.”

“But these thoughts are eating you alive,” Akaashi observes. Kageyama gives them a very strange look, remembering what Tsukishima had said about how they seemed to see everything, know everything about other pilots, just from observation. _You’ll probably get really close to them_ , Tsukishima had said.

“What’s it to you?” Kageyama asks, suspicious.

Akaashi shrugs. “I’m a Ranger. We’re part of a four-Jaeger team. I know that there are certain things only other pilots can understand. Do I need more of a reason than that to try and help?”

“I don’t need your help,” Kageyama snaps, defensive.

“I knew Oikawa,” they say suddenly. “Although I was closer to Hajime. We were good friends, kept in touch even when we were at different bases. I’ve also had fallout with Koutarou, enough that for a while, we weren’t able to Drift because he didn’t trust me.” Kageyama’s eyes widen. Akaashi drags a hand through their hair. “What I’m trying to get at is that you don’t have to deal with this all on your own. It’s up to you, of course, but if you ever need someone to talk to or someone to listen to you, my door is open. I won’t say a word, if you’d like. But there’s something in you that’s broken and you need to fix it.”

Kageyama’s _sick and tired_ of trusting people only to have them let him down. He wants to scream out at the ocean that it’s not fair and that he doesn’t deserve to have all the good things in his life snatched from him when he’s worked so hard to earn them. He’s lost friends and teachers and partners after putting trust in them, but with Akaashi, it’s different. Akaashi already knows all his secrets, can read him like an open book. More than that, Akaashi understands what it’s like to have a friend die and to struggle with their partner. Kageyama has no emotional investment in Akaashi. Doesn’t have to. Akaashi's not trying to be his friend; they’re just trying to help.

“Okay,” he agrees quietly.

Akaashi takes his elbow and pulls him from in front of Koushi’s hallway, gently enough that Kageyama could break from them if he really wanted to. They leave the hospital walking close together but not touching, the comfort of a presence but the safety of distance.

Over the next week, Kageyama opens up to Akaashi, bit by bit. It’s a relief to not have to explain how the loss of two teams affected him, for Akaashi to just _know_ and truly understand as one who has also lost. Kageyama explains how his relationship with Hinata developed, the ebb and flow of closeness, how each time it was his fault that he pushed away from Hinata, couldn’t trust him enough with the weight of Kageyama’s past. And in return, now Hinata couldn’t trust him, either.

“The first time was fear,” Akaashi says. “You were afraid of showing weakness, but why? Hinata was weak like you. You were afraid that he would see the extent of your suffering, your past, and not want you because of it. So you pushed him away.”

“At first, yes,” Kageyama agrees quietly, leaning against Akaashi's bed, splayed out across their floor. Behind him on the bed, Akaashi hums in acknowledgement. “But then…later…I thought that showing him what happened to him would hurt him. The Ghost Drift was so vivid and strong between us, I worried he would experience what I had, and be afraid. I was trying to protect him.”

“Hinata? Afraid?” Akaashi isn’t taunting Kageyama, but the way they say it makes Kageyama flush. “I’m not sure Hinata’s truly afraid of anything.”

“That’s…” Kageyama struggles. “But—”

“You love him,” Akaashi says softly. “And because you love him, you know how strong he is. Hinata can withstand near anything. He’ll fight for what he wants, even destroy himself in the process, to achieve his desires. But even Hinata has to have limits.”

Kageyama is quiet for a moment. “When you read our files, Akaashi-san, who did you think was the better pilot?”

Akaashi taps their chin thoughtfully. “It would have to be you, of course.”

Kageyama nods too. “That’s what I thought as well. He’s only recently gotten a hang of Drifting properly, he still can’t make plans for shit, he lets his emotions get in the way, and he’s never done all that well in training. When you look at it that way, it seems like I was the obvious candidate and he was a mistake on the Marshal’s part. But…” Kageyama shifts uncomfortably. “Really, Hinata just needed his technique corrected a little bit. Once he’s pointed in the right direction, he puts 110% of his mind and body into achieving what he wants, like you said. He doesn’t let things like his past or other people get in his way. As of now, I’d have to say that he’s a better pilot than me, and he’s only going to keep improving. His rollercoaster of life never _really_ goes down.”

Kageyama sighs. “I didn’t want to be what dragged him down. I didn’t want to be his limit. But at the same time, I selfishly wanted to be at his side, to be part of the reason why he became so successful. I didn’t want to leave him, even if it would bring him down in the end. That’s why I hid everything from him.”

“Love is probably our greatest enemy in this war,” Akaashi sighs, flopping onto their stomach. “It’s just one little emotion, but it drives so many of our actions. Your love for Hinata hurt your relationship in the end, as Koutarou’s love for me and Tetsurou hurt ours. But it’s not impossible to fix.”

“Maybe,” Kageyama sighed in reply, turning away from Akaashi. “Maybe, maybe, maybe.”

Akaashi stuck close to him after that, shadowing Kageyama in his free time. As Hinata disappeared more and more often from their quarters when they weren’t doing mandatory practice together, Kageyama, too, disappeared instead of sulking alone in the emptiness of their room. Akaashi filled several spaces in his life, namely a partner to work out with who didn’t put Kageyama on edge and a friend to talk to.

Calling Akaashi a friend seemed strange, though. It wasn’t really like that. They didn’t chat and sit together and throw an arm around each other in displays of physical affection. Kageyama hesitated to call it something deeper because he had only know Akaashi this well for _a week_ , but their time together was spent often in the quiet of one another’s quarters, talking in low voices, or silently side-by-side in the gym or sparring.

Akaashi cooked for him sometimes, and sometimes, he cooked for Akaashi. Leaning against their shoulder didn’t feel too odd, nor did falling asleep next to them after they stayed up too late talking. Kageyama’s heart opened to the senior pilot, but there was no emotional baggage attached to their bond. Akaashi's presence comforted Kageyama more than anything, made him feel less like he was alone.

“Are we friends?” Kageyama asks one day when it’s raining and they’re outside, soaked through and watching the cargo helicopters bring in food for the personnel on base. Akaashi raises an eyebrow, glancing at him.

“Do you want to be?” Akaashi replies.

Kageyama hesitates. “We aren’t really, though,” he mutters.

“That’s fine, too,” Akaashi assures him.

Kageyama shakes his head. “No that’s—that sounds too cold.” He exhales loudly through his nose. “I trust you effortlessly. I don’t—friends and partners take effort. You don’t.”

Akaashi smiles. “Then just that is fine, isn’t it? You probably don’t realize it, Tobio, but you take a weight off of my shoulders too. We’re fine just as we are. Just this.”

The rain is heavy enough that it catches on Kageyama’s eyelashes and splashes uncomfortably on his cheeks and the top of his head. People run past them, hopping from shelter to shelter, trying to stay dry, but in the rain with Akaashi, Kageyama feels like it’s the most natural place to be in the world.

 

\--------------------------------------------

 

It takes three weeks for Bokuto and Akaashi to fully integrate themselves into the base. In only three weeks’ time, they are at home in the Miyagi secondary base as the rest of the teams, joking with the scientists and flirting with the chef to try and get an extra helping (well, the last one was just Bokuto). As hard as the other teams try to imagine life before Bokuto and Akaashi, it still seems like some kind of fever dream. They know the base’s layout as well as the rest of them, know all the inside jokes and the schedules, know the occupants like old friends.

That kind of charisma and enthusiasm and popularity should have been annoying, or at least enough to isolate them from the other pilots, but the problem was that they were too damn _likable_. Akaashi and Bokuto and both set down their roots in a handful of the pilots, but they didn’t treat them like a means to an end—they genuinely wanted to get along with the other Rangers. Bokuto never stopped getting into trouble with Hinata or ruffling Tsukishima’s hair and dragging him down to the gym for hand-to-hand combat training. Akaashi could be found at Yamaguchi’s side half of the time, and with Kageyama the other half.

From the start, it had been clear that they got along almost too well with Kuroo and Kenma. Even more so than Hinata, Bokuto and Kuroo reverted to their childish selves, bringing all the antics and silliness of childhood with them. Their interactions were as natural and coordinated as breathing, to the point Hinata and Yamaguchi weren’t entirely sure that they couldn’t Ghost Drift. Their easy affection, seen in linked hands or pillowing one’s head in the other’s lap, demonstrated the level of familiarity between them that superseded simple friendship. Akaashi and Kenma, to a lesser extent, had that same kind of bond. They often teamed up to knock Bokuto and Kuroo down a peg when they were getting too rowdy or disturbing other members of the base. Akaashi would sometimes dab a napkin at the corner of Kenma’s mouth, muttering gentle admonishments, or feed them a bite of food off their own fork. Kenma leaned into Akaashi like Kageyama did, a silent display of trust and affection.

But what really won them over to the pilots and staff was the energy and affection they generated when they were together. Apart, they had the ability to endear people to them, but together, they had the power to bring life back to the base, so broken after its first major loss. The return of the base’s original point team brought hope that things could still get better, that there were other Rangers out there fighting and _winning_ , still laughing and living to see another day. Their influence stretched to every part of the base, brightening it from the inside out as they made their way to greet as many of the personnel as they could, tell them that they had no reason to be down when they had a war to win.

Akaashi and Bokuto were reminders of Daichi and Koushi when things weren’t as bad. Bokuto’s attempts to make Akaashi laugh that light, pretty laugh that they always failed to hide, and the pleased smile that spread across Bokuto’s face as a result filled a room with warmth. The way Akaashi grabbed at Bokuto’s arm to point something out to him, Bokuto leaning in so close that they were nearly cheek to cheek, the way they fixed Bokuto’s hair into his trademark ‘horned owl’ look while humming softly, the way they smoothed the muscles in Bokuto’s back after a hard work out until he was putty in their hands…all these actions spoke of a reminder that the Jaeger Program didn’t just yield death; it yielded unbreakable partnerships.

Perhaps the two pilots chose to make their relationship as open and visible as it was so that people had hope and something to root for again. But perhaps they really just were that comfortable in their skin, if the way Bokuto would swoop in and kiss Akaashi, mid-sentence, and Akaashi would drop everything to check in on Bokuto was anything to go by. An arm around Akaashi's waist here, a roll of the eyes and yanking of a collar into place there…

Kuroo slides next to Marshal Ukai after one of these incidents, leaning on his shoulder with unwelcome friendliness. “I was right, wasn’t I?” Kuroo asks, grinning wickedly.

“Right about what?” Ukai sniffs, shoving Kuroo off of him and glaring.

Kuroo gestures to Akaashi and Bokuto. “They really are the ‘jelly’ holding our response team together, aren’t they?”

Ukai really, really wishes he could tell Kuroo he was wrong.

 

\-----------------------------------------------

 

“Order! Order in the court!”

“Kuro, there are only four of us here.”

“That’s true but _someone_ won’t shut up.”

“Ow! The fuck was that for, Tetsu?”

“Stop flirting with your boyfriend and pay attention to this meeting!”

“Yes, please leave me be, Koutarou. I’m trying to have a civilized conversation with Kenma.”

Bokuto sputters something undignified, probably about Akaashi wanting to talk to Kenma more than him, but Kuroo just looks despairingly at the two of them. “What is the purpose of us meeting together in this _tiny_ meeting room, if we don’t actually hold a meeting?”

“Because it’s soundproof?” Akaashi offers dryly.

“Because I debugged it a few hours ago?” Kenma chimes in.

“You guys…” Kuroo sighs, and Kenma finally decides to come to his rescue.

“Okay, Kuro is right—we have to talk about this. No amount of joking around or avoiding it is going to make this plan anything less than what it is,” they sigh.

“And what is that?” Bokuto asks.

“A plan to end the war,” Kenma replies, eyes glittering and dangerous.

“Did you assess the other pilots like we asked you to?” Kuroo asks. Akaashi and Bokuto nod, but Akaashi sighs, frustrated.

“I know that you wouldn’t call us in if it weren’t absolutely essential to protecting the world,” they start, “but I just don’t know if this plan can work.”

Bokuto, too, looks grim. “We’re also worried that it’s too dangerous. Not just for the one who is the crux of the plan, but also the rest of us. What if something goes wrong?”

“We have precautions for that,” Kuroo assures him. “We would never endanger millions of people.”

“Maybe not without reason,” Akaashi argues. “But you have a very good reason, and a couple million people are nothing to the survival of humanity, correct?” Kuroo and Kenma go quiet, the darkness of the conference room heightening their own stillness and air of danger.

“That’s what I thought,” Akaashi sighs.

“Things _could_ go wrong,” Kuroo murmurs. “We never denied that. But that’s why there are three other teams on backup. Unless all three fail on top of the original plan failing, it won’t be a problem.”

“This is crazy, Tetsu,” Bokuto breaks in, gently. “You know that, right?”

“This whole situation, this whole _war_ is crazy, Kou. The kaiju are popping out of the Breach faster and bigger than we’ll be able to handle if we don’t do something drastic,” Kuroo says desperately. “Are you really so content to let things get to that point without doing _anything_?” It’s Akaashi and Bokuto’s turn to go quiet.

“I hate fighting with you,” Kenma says softly to Akaashi. “I know Kuro hates fighting with Koutarou. But we’ll keep at it if we must, because this is something we _have_ to do. Even if it’s dangerous. Even if we don’t like it.”

“I’m scared, Kou,” Kuroo adds. “I’m really scared that this will go wrong, or it won’t work, or someone will get hurt. But I’m even more scared of what I _know_ is coming. I know that we can’t win against what the Precursors have in store for us.”

Bokuto breaks the tension with a soft laugh that has everyone’s shoulders relaxing. “You know, Tetsu? You might actually be the first human on this earth to be more scared of the known than the unknown, you crazy bastard.” He exhales in surrender. “Okay. I’ll hear you out. Keiji?”

Akaashi nods. “I’m not happy with it, but you both make good points. Something has to be done.”

“The Marshal is sure to find out about the plan no matter how hard we try and conceal it,” Kuroo begins. “Despite that, we want to keep this on the down-low as much as possible, in case he protests. What are your assessments of the pilots in relation to the positions we discussed?”

“I have no complaints,” Bokuto reports. “I agree with Kenma; Sugawara is too broken to use, and Yamaguchi is just coming into himself.”

“Same here,” Akaashi agrees. “Hinata is the best choice for the crux of the plan. But how are you going to convince him to take the position? I can’t imagine even _Hinata_ would volunteer outright to do _that_ , and it’s not a job that you can force someone into.”

“I’ve taken care of that,” Kenma says quietly. “He’ll do it—I’m sure of it. He’s afraid, but…he can overcome anything.” Akaashi nods in agreement.

“So what’s the next step?” Bokuto asks.

“Kenma is training Hinata for the operation, even if he doesn’t realize it yet,” Kuroo explains. “That part’s taken care of. You two have done your job of bringing together the pilots. We’ll put the strength of the new bonds and new formation to the test with the next kaiju that heads our way. From there, we’ll make any adjustments needed to our positioning and the pilots’ mental states.”

“We have to do an equipment check, too,” Kenma adds. “This base is so small, it may not have the technology we need.”

“So now we wait,” Akaashi surmises.

“So now we wait,” Kenma confirms.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------

 

A Category Four breaks the surface heading for California a week later. The team out of Los Angeles takes it down within an hour, but it takes all three of their Jaegers instead of the two they usually use. Their report put out a few hours later describes the kaiju attack as “far more vicious than normal.” It’s enough to put the rest of the bases on edge. Kuroo and Kenma practically disappear from the base, pacing their room and having heated conversations in hushed voices.

Three days after the Los Angeles attack, the alarms go off in the Miyagi base.

“Too fast,” Bokuto mutters to himself, pulling on his clothes with rigid efficiency. “They’re coming in too damn fast. He tugs his bomber jacket on and turns to Akaashi, who pulls their shirt over their head fluidly and patiently.

“Tetsurou and Kenma were probably right,” they murmur. “They usually are, where kaiju are concerned.”

Bokuto gives Akaashi a distressed look. “But why now? Kenma’s had that link with the Anteverse for _years_. What’s making them so anxious to wipe out humanity?”

Akaashi shrugs. “Maybe we’re too good at our jobs. Besides Apocalypto Alpha, what Jaegers can you think of that have gone down in recent history?” Bokuto doesn’t have an answer for them.

“Even that was only due to a double event, which thankfully has only happened once since then,” Akaashi continues. Neither of them mention that it took three separate bases and air support to take down those kaiju without any fatalities and heavy damage to the Jaegers. “We’re too comfortable with the status quo. It’s not a war anymore; it’s just getting up and going to work every day. We’ve stopped trying to predict the enemy’s next move.”

“We _can’t_ predict the enemy’s next move,” Bokuto argues. “No amount of mathematic calculation or hints from the hivemind can tell us what the Precursors are thinking.”

“Which is why,” Akaashi replies, stepping close to Bokuto and brushing off his jacket, “we need to make the first move. They’re right. I’ve thought on it, and it’s time. We can’t risk any increase in the kaiju threat because we’re too scared to try something.”

Bokuto leans in to press his forehead to Akaashi's. “If that’s where you’re leading me, I will follow,” he murmurs. He presses a gentle kiss to Akaashi's mouth, and Akaashi looks up at him pleadingly.

“I want _you_ to feel comfortable taking this step, not just following me,” Akaashi says softly. “If there’s some instinct telling you this is wrong, I don’t want to ignore it.”

Bokuto shakes his head. “No, the plan is fine. It’s just—what comes after the plan? If this is their response to us getting better at fighting and Kenma getting into their hivemind, what will they respond with after _that_?”

Akaashi pauses. “Maybe nothing. Their increase of attacks has been slight, anyway. Maybe they don’t have the technology or firepower to do more than just slowly amp the invasion.”

“I hope you’re right,” Bokuto says. He smiles. “Let’s go take care of the kids, ‘kay? The last thing they need is to see their superiors worrying themselves to an early grave.”

Akaashi takes Bokuto’s hand, and they leave the room.

Predictably, the “kids” have worried themselves into a mess, although they do a good job of not showing it. Hinata and Kageyama meet up with Yamaguchi and Tsukishima on the way to the Shatterdome. The tension could be cut with a knife. Even within the teams, there’s none of the usual banter or conversation; they remember the last time a kaiju attack caught them by surprise, and it wasn’t pretty.

“It won’t be like last time,” Hinata says suddenly, startling the other three when they’re in the elevator to their respective Drivesuit Rooms. He doesn’t elaborate more than that, just stands tall and proud, ready for anything.

“Hinata’s right,” Tsukishima agrees after a moment. “And even if it is a double event—” they all wince at the words “—it won’t be the same as last time. This time we have four experienced teams, two of which have already dealt with that kind of situation before. There won’t be any self-sacrifice.” No one has the heart to call Tsukishima out on the fact that he can’t promise that, but they all look away.

“ _Listen to me_ ,” Tsukishima snaps, noticing their aversion. “There _won’t_ be any self-sacrifice, not out of us four. We ride together, we die together and all that sentimental shit. Let the transfers do what they want, but we’re _not_ abandoning _anyone_.”

“That’s the first thing you’ve ever said that hasn’t made me want to punch you in the face,” Kageyama grunts, but there are nods of agreement all around to Tsukishima’s proposal.

“Good,” he grumbles. “Now get the hell off my elevator.”

 

\------------------------------------------------------

 

“That was a good speech, Kei,” Yamaguchi says when they’re suited up and stepping into the Conn-Pod. Tsukishima has to look back to see if Yamaguchi’s joking with him, but there’s _pride_ humming across the Ghost Drift, and he snorts.

“It wasn’t a speech; it was survival,” he mutters, backing himself onto the command platform. “Like it or not, the four of us are close enough that if one of us died, the rest would go down too. Daichi-san made a bad decision—one we’re going to learn from.”

“I think we’ll be okay,” Yamaguchi says, settling in next to Tsukishima. “All of us have been working hard to get better and fix things; there’s no way we won’t have improved.”

“Knock on wood,” Tsukishima scoffs.

“Superstition? From you?” Yamaguchi laughs, and is still affectionately amused when the Drift techs say _neural handshake activated_.

It’s weird, Tsukishima thinks. He didn’t remember Yamaguchi being so _present_ last time they Drifted. It’s Yamaguchi who pulls him over the bridge this time, gently coaxing. Tsukishima wants to snap at him _I’m not a kid_ , but he can’t make himself approach Yamaguchi at all. Memories of practically drowning Yamaguchi in his mind still stab at Tsukishima, and he holds back, despite himself.

 _Kei_ , Yamaguchi sighs. _It’s okay. Don’t you feel me here? You **can’t** overwhelm me anymore. We’re the same, Kei. I won’t force you to stand all on your own like I have in the past. Stand beside me now._

Tsukishima opens up, allows their minds to mesh in the Drift. That cold rush of water he used to press forward, that tidal wave, becomes as warm as a swimming pool in the summer sun, and he floats lazily to Yamaguchi, stretching the borders of his mind across Yamaguchi’s, truly feeling the vastness of them both for the first time. When he blinks his eyes open, it’s almost an out of body experience—he can feel and see all that Yamaguchi can, down to every twitch of his muscles or song lyric dancing briefly through his head. Sees it all and accepts it all. There’s no power struggle, no suffering. Just _being._

 _I’m lucky to have you, Tadashi_ , he thinks, and watches the smile grow across Yamaguchi’s face.

Across the hangar from them, Hinata won’t step on the command platform, to the annoyance and rising panic of everyone in the Conn-Pod.

“Hinata,” Kageyama tries to reason, “Please get on the command platform. That is a _very real_ kaiju out there, a very real _Category Four_ kaiju, and we need all hands on deck.”

Hinata shakes his head furiously while trying to speak at the same time. “No, that’s not—I’m trying to— _ugh_ , why do you always make this so hard?”

“ _I’m_ making this hard?” Kageyama says, a vein popping in his forehead. “Me. The one who’s trying to, you know, _pilot the Jaeger_.”

“Would you just listen to me?” Hinata pleads. “For once?” Kageyama snaps his jaw shut. Nods.

“You…you’ve always led our team, up to that last simulation. I kind of just…took over the Drift without letting you know, and that was a really shitty thing to do,” he mumbles. Holy shit, was this an _apology_? Kageyama is baffled.

“But…but like I said before, I’m never going to lose to you, Kageyama, so I want that spot as the leadoff in the Drift,” Hinata says shakily. “I want it and I’ll fight for it, but I don’t want to hurt you in the process. So—”

“Hinata,” Kageyama interrupts, half-amazed and half-relieved. “I didn’t fight you because you came into the position naturally. As of right now, you’re the stronger pilot.” Hinata lights up at that despite himself, eyes shining. The side of Kageyama’s mouth quirks. “I’m not going to lose to you either, though, so watch your back—I’ll be coming for my spot.” He pokes Hinata in the forehead.

“Geh!” Hinata huffs and rubs at his forehead, hopping onto the command platform. “Just you try it.”

“Try? I’ll succeed,” Kageyama declares, stepping up himself. They’re still exchanging playfully challenging looks by the time the neural synchronization starts.

Kageyama doesn’t feel the in-between or the bridge on the way into the Drift, doesn’t even really feel the moment when they truly start Drifting; Hinata is just in and around him, like he’s stepped into the middle of a bonfire, but Hinata doesn’t burn him. The heat seeps into his muscles and relaxes him, and when he breathes, he feels like he’s breathing fire. The three of them are _dangerous_ , lethal to any kaiju they face, and the fire burns away any linger fear or self-doubt Kageyama had left in him.

 _Missed you, missed you_ , his mind is practically chanting at Hinata, but Hinata’s mind is pressed just as tightly against his. They weren’t good, separated. Ghost Drift or not, they needed the understanding and the warmth of connection. Kageyama wants to ask Hinata why he has put such distance between them when he’s in Hinata’s mind and Hinata can’t lie to him, but Kageyama knows that’s playing dirty. Instead, he just revels in the strength of their Drift for the first time in what felt like forever, knowing that the readings Saeko was getting probably matched their impossible synchronization from when they first Drifted.

Tyrant Omega, too, practically sings at their unity, raring to move and scratch the same itch Hinata and Kageyama have—the itch to fight, the itch to run, the itch to _win_.

 **Alright everyone, don’t get too excited now,** Kuroo’s voice drawls across the com. **We’re going to take this Cat. Four down as fast as possible. Let’s make this a good, clean run, no collateral. Take the positions we’ve been discussing at the strategy meetings, Tsukishima and Kageyama, you get _no_ input, so don’t even argue. Alright, so here’s the plan…**

 

\------------------------------------------------------

 

There’s just the hint of rain in the distance, far from the clear skies over the base and summer heat even in the shade of Koushi’s favorite balcony. Koushi sniffs the air out of habit, but he can’t pick rain out from the scent of ocean that has him leaning away from the railing, holding back nausea. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.

It’s hard to make out, but he can just barely see the helicopters air-lifting the four Jaegers out into the exit bay, where they will duel with the Category Four. Koushi feels woozy just thinking about it and kicks himself internally, biting his lip. What use was he to anyone when just _thinking_ too hard about a kaiju made him want to curl up in a ball and die? Honestly, he probably should have taken the neurodrugs before risking coming out here, but he was so _sick_ of _being sick_.

“ _Koushi!_ ” Ah. Ennoshita had finally caught up with him. He shoves open the door leading to the balcony, breathing heavily. Ennoshita looks as white as a sheet and wildly panicked. Koushi blinks. He had just gone for a walk; sure, it was uncharacteristic, but nothing that Ennoshita needed to look _that_ worried over.

“Oh, thank god. Oh thank god, Koushi, you’re _okay_ ,” he gasps, slumping against the door in relief.

Koushi tilts his head to the side. “Why would I not be okay? I just wanted a little fresh air, Chikara.”

Ennoshita bites his lip. “Well, you didn’t take your meds this morning, and when someone said they’d seen you heading up to the roof—I thought—” He gestures helplessly to the edge of the balcony. It’s Koushi’s turn to pale.

“ _Oh._ Oh, no, Chikara—I would never—I could never do that to you,” he whispers, horrified.

“But you know…the side effects of the neurodrugs are a sudden onslaught with the return of emotions or complete apathy, you might not have k-known what you were…shit…” Ennoshita scrubs at his eyes hastily, and Koushi’s heart breaks. He walks back over to Ennoshita and takes him in his arms, holding him tightly.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay; I’m here, I’m not going to leave you,” Koushi soothes him. “I’ve been trying to wean myself off the meds. I’m so sorry, I should have told you; I keep forgetting that you’re my doctor as well as my friend and I didn’t want to worry you…”

“What are you even _doing_ up here?” Ennoshita asks when he gets himself back under control.

Koushi smiles sadly. “This used to be my favorite place to go on base, before everything,” he explains. “Isn’t it funny? It doesn’t even feel like anything has changed except the kids are out there fighting and I’m not at their side. And when I look at the ocean…I…”

“Koushi, you’re shaking,” Ennoshita murmurs, lowering Koushi to a sitting position. “You really shouldn’t be out here,” he sighs.

“I want to be able to look at the ocean again,” Koushi whimpers, covering his mouth again. A violent tremor shakes his body. “F-fuck. When do those _stop_?”

Ennoshita shakes his head slowly. “The looping will stop eventually, but the tail end of your bond won’t die. We’re trying to figure out how to get rid of it, but,” Ennoshita shrugs. “That’s messing pretty deep into the brain and consciousness; we could end up doing more harm than good.”

Koushi looks mournfully out at the ocean and the helicopters returning from the drop, new, retrieval helicopters whirring to life on standby if a pick-up was necessary. He’s still breathing erratically, heart beating too fast, and Ennoshita should take him inside and _away_ from the ocean, but he thinks he might be able to reach Koushi, this time.

“Please consider going back to them,” he pleads. “Akaashi and Bokuto are doing a great job of pulling the response team together, and Kuroo and Kenma are running the strategy, but they need _you_. They need to see that you’re trying to get better. Koushi, I know you don’t want to show them how sick you are, but they _want_ to see you.”

Koushi looks back at him. “They’ve been pacing out in the hallway,” Ennoshita blurts, although he’s sure they wouldn’t want him to say so. Kageyama and Tsukishima were the most common visitors to the ward, Kageyama anxiously glancing at Koushi’s room and Tsukishima pretending to be ‘just passing through.’ Yamaguchi almost went in a few times, but lost his courage. Hinata asked constantly about Koushi once he found out that Ennoshita was his doctor, but was far too frightened to go see Koushi himself.

“Even Takeda-sensei has been asking after you,” Ennoshita presses.

“The Marshal?” Koushi asks, a strange intonation in his voice, and Ennoshita winces. _The one person who hadn’t said a word…_

“You know Takeda-sensei speaks for them both,” Ennoshita tries to salvage the situation.

Koushi huffs. “No, that’s a good thing. I’ve never known the Marshal to visit any of his soldiers in the hospital. If he wanted to know how I was doing, that would mean he’s given up on me.”

“So you’ll come back?” Ennoshita asks hopefully.

Koushi smiles sadly and shakes his head. “I can’t, not just yet. I don’t trust myself to stay in control of my emotions and Daichi’s memory. Don’t lose faith in me, though, Chikara.”

“Stupid,” Ennoshita mumbles, helping Koushi to his feet. “I’m _never_ going to lose faith in you, even if the whole world does.”

Koushi gives him a heart-breaking smile. “I would like to see them,” Koushi sighs happily. “Even Kuroo and Kenma. Would you tell them that for me? I want to see them again.”

Ennoshita swallows thickly. He knows Koushi can’t see it yet, but there are cracks in his sickness, in the shell he had become. Koushi’s true self was beginning to shine through once more. “Of course I’ll tell them,” he agrees.

Ennoshita tells them right after they get back from defeating the kaiju, not even half an hour later. It was one of the fastest takedowns of a Category Four in the Miyagi base’s history, plenty of reason to celebrate not only success after a rough couple of months, but the unity of the team and how well they had fought under Kuroo and Kenma’s ‘separate but unified’ fighting style. Before they get too far into the champagne, Ennoshita rushes in and tells them that Koushi had specially requested that they visit him. Ennoshita doesn’t add that Koushi probably meant at any time, letting the pilots think he meant _now_.

They bring the full force of their celebration into the new room Koushi had moved into a few days ago, a single designed for important visitors to the base. Hinata and Kageyama show their true colors by rushing Koushi almost immediately upon seeing him in bed, throwing their arms around him and crying into his shirt about how much they had missed him and how much he had missed out on while he was recovering. They calm down significantly when Ennoshita clubs both of them across the head and yells at them for attacking his patient.

Hinata, by virtue of being the smallest of the visitors, is able to squish into bed next to Koushi, pillowing his head against Koushi’s chest and waving his hands around wildly to illustrate their battle with the kaiju. Kageyama tenses, lying on the floor next to Koushi’s bed with his head propped up over the edge, at the kaiju mention, but Koushi pats his hair comfortingly until he relaxes, sure that Koushi was okay with it all.

Yamaguchi presses up against Hinata, just as eager to add snippets of Strike’s perspective into Hinata’s narrative. They bounce the story back and forth, Tsukishima standing with Akaashi and Bokuto at the foot of Koushi’s bed, slouching in an attempt to appear casual. Bokuto grins at the reunion scene and Akaashi wears that satisfied, mild smile of theirs.

When Hinata and Yamaguchi finish relating the story of their victory to Koushi, only slightly trembling, Kageyama takes Koushi’s hand in his own, giving it a comforting squeeze. “You look so much better, Suga-san,” Yamaguchi says kindly, but it’s true. The other pilots nod in agreement.

“How nice of you to say so,” Koushi says with a light laugh. “I’m finally starting to feel better myself, especially seeing all of you so happy and healthy.” Tears well up in his eyes before he can stop them, and he sniffs delicately. “I was so worried that losing Daichi and I would hurt you irreparably…”

“We’re taking care of things here,” Tsukishima says gruffly. “We can guard Japan on our own now, so you can just worry about getting better. Everyone will be so much more relieved when you come back, so.”

Touched, Koushi starts crying in earnest, smile wobbling with the weight of the emotion in his chest. Tsukishima looks panicked for a second, like he’s done something wrong, so Koushi speaks up. “Even you? Even you have become so reliable, Tsukishima,” he sniffles. “I’m so proud of all of you.”

Yamaguchi and Hinata snicker at the backhanded compliment while Tsukishima stares intently at the ceiling. “He’s right, though,” Akaashi says. “You are sorely missed, Sugawara.” They share a look of understanding.

“I’ll leave them in your capable hands then, Akaashi, Bokuto,” Koushi nods. “I’ll put all my focus into getting better, so please look after the base in my absence!”

“Ossu!” The four junior pilots acknowledge.

Tsukishima, Akaashi, and Bokuto move in a little closer, settling in. For the rest of the hour, they relate anecdotes of silly stories around the base, trying to make Koushi laugh. And he does. He laughs more than he had since Daichi died, feeling the life crawl back into him, one shaky inch at a time. And when he shudders hard, once, from a memory, the younger pilots are there to provide physical reassurance through cuddling and touch until he’s composed enough to talk again.

Outside the bedroom, Kuroo and Kenma observe the reunion, wisely choosing not to interfere with the brotherhood of the assembled Rangers. Ennoshita stands with them. “Thank you,” he says softly.

Kuroo raises an eyebrow. “Oh? For what?”

“For bringing them home,” Ennoshita replies, not looking away from the bedroom.

“That’s something everyone is thankful for,” Kuroo says after a moment.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------

 

Kuroo corners Noya the next day up in the biology labs while everyone is still riding the high from the defeat of the kaiju.

“Oi, Nishinoya. C’mere for a sec,” Kuroo calls. Noya, carrying a too-large box of specimens, glances from his box to Kuroo. He grins.

“Sure thing, as long as you carry this box down to my lab for me,” he says cheerfully. Kuroo relents with a sigh.

Taking the box from Noya, he says, “What kind of specialty equipment do you have?”

Noya whistles. “Um, all of it? That’s a pretty broad assortment of technology you’re asking about, man. You looking for anything in particular?”

Kuroo shifts the box in his arms and hums. “Something kaiju-specific…”

Noya gives him a blank look. “You’re joking, right? That still falls under _all of it_. Kaiju are my _job_. If it’s a kaiju-related tool then I have it. And if not in my storage shed, then down in the guts of the base.”

“No, that’s not what I meant,” Kuroo sighs, knocking his head against the box. “I need something that’s pretty rare, probably not even made anymore. It’s made _specifically_ for dealing with kaiju.”

“Who the hell needs old shit?” Noya asks, confused. “What are you, some kind of collector on the side of being a pilot? Get a real hobby, dude.”

Kuroo resists the urge to strangle the tiny scientist by repeating to himself that he has information Kuroo needs. “If I tell you what I’m looking for, you’re going to want to know _why_ I want it, and that’s classified information I can’t share with you.”

“Ooooo, Marshal got you running some kinda top-secret project, huh?” Noya concludes, impressed. “That’s pretty neat! Don’t know why he wouldn’t want my input, though…weird guy. Tell me what it is; I’ll see what I can do.”

Kuroo prays for patience and for hope that Noya won’t go around blabbing about this specific piece of equipment. He leans down and mutters its name in Noya’s ear.

“The fuck? What do you want one of _those_ for? Why the hell do you need it?”

“ _Shut up, someone will hear you!_ ”

Back in their shared bay, Asahi was tapping a piece of chalk against his chin thoughtfully, correcting his general equation for kaiju attack predictions to the specifics of time and location of the next attack. Orchestral music plays softly from his computer, covering up the sound of his visitor’s entrance.

“That’s supposed to be 9.3,” Kenma says quietly, making Asahi jump at their sudden announcement of their presence, which in turn, makes Kenma jump at the sudden movement. The result is that they both look like terrified cats, puffed up defensively.

“I, um, I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you come in,” Asahi apologizes, trying to still his racing heart. He’s not quite sure what half of the Tokyo Ranger team was doing in his bay, but he offered what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “Can I help you with something?”

Kenma shakes their head. There’s an expectant pause, but Kenma doesn’t explain their presence at all. “Um…then what are you doing in here, if you don’t mind me asking?” Asahi continues, tentatively.

“There’s a mistake,” Kenma offers, looking at the ground. “Time’s wrong.”

Asahi blinks and looks back at his blackboard, where the time of estimated arrival, 9.7 hours, was circled. He squints at his calculations for a long moment, trying to find the flaw, visitor forgotten. When he does find it, he’s amazed that the flaw was some bad rounding on his part where he had done mental math. He would have never spotted it himself if he hadn’t been looking very carefully for it.

He turns back around to Kenma. “How on earth did you spot something so minor?” He asks, incredulous.

Kenma shifts uncomfortably. “I don’t know anything about math,” they murmur. “I just know about kaiju.”

Asahi has no idea what that means.

“Er, well…did you just want to point out that one thing?” Kenma shakes their head. “D-do I have more flaws?” A shrug. “Do you…want to look over more of my work?” A nod. Asahi is relieved. _Forward progress. Painful, confusing forward progress, but forward progress nonetheless_.

Asahi spends the rest of his evening going over past kaiju predictions (Kenma is shockingly accurate at picking out which ones were Asahi’s mistakes. And by ‘accurate,’ Asahi means that they picked out every last one and corrected them to their observed appearance), then his predicted ones when Kenma demonstrates the extent of their ability. Of course, they’re of no use when he tries to get them to fix his equation, but they _can_ tell him what each value for time, coordinate, and size should be. Asahi is left to figure out the math behind each prediction.

“You’re incredible,” Asahi praises. “It’s like I have the answers in the back of the book at my fingertips now! You’ll come back, right?”

Kenma blinks and nods. “I’ll be coming down more often to help you, pretty soon,” they inform him, and Asahi could cry with joy. Kenma leaves him with a lot of work to do, but there’s a certain weight lifted from Asahi’s chest knowing he’s not alone anymore under the pressure of predicting kaiju attacks.

When Noya bursts into the bay later on, both he and Asahi blurt out at the same time: “ _You won’t believe what happened to me today_.”

 

\-----------------------------------------------------

 

Kuroo’s already in bed by the time Kenma shows up, and he looks tremendously grateful to see his partner. “C’mere,” Kuroo calls, patting the side of their bed. Kenma obeys, tossing their jacket on the ground and slipping off their pants along the way so that when they collapse next to Kuroo, they’re only in a tank top and boxers.

Kenma curls into Kuroo’s side, Kuroo looping an arm around their middle. “How was it?” Kuroo asks, grinning at how affectionate Kenma was today. “Was he scary?”

Kenma shakes their head. “No, he was nice. ‘M fine to go back.”

“Then you had more success than me,” Kuroo sighs, rolling his eyes. “All that talk about having every kaiju-related piece of equipment there is, and he doesn’t even have a neural spike—”

“Are Yaku and Lev coming?” Kenma asks.

Kuroo shrugs helplessly. “I don’t have a choice but to call them in. If we don’t have the right equipment for the operation, we can’t go through with it. I don’t want to, though…Yaku is gonna kick my ass,” he mutters.

“Lev,” Kenma mutters, shivering, and Kuroo pats them consolingly. He frowns at how tense Kenma’s back is.

“Are you that worried about Lev? If he bothers you too much, just tell Yaku and I and we’ll—” Kenma shakes his head.

“No…that’s not it,” they murmur, staring straight ahead with a single-minded focus. “I…need to tell Shouyou about the plan. Our kaiju is coming soon, Kuroo. We have to tell him about it.”

Kuroo nods. “That’s fine; you’re free to tell him at your discretion.”

“He needs more exposure to the hivemind,” Kenma confesses quietly. “But I’m afraid to put him in danger.”

Kuroo raises an eyebrow. “It’s not a farce, then…you really do care about him.” His voice is even, but Kenma can feel the edge to his mind across their bond—he doesn’t like it. Kenma already knew he wouldn’t. It was their mistake getting close to Hinata in the first place, though. If they get hurt, then they have no one to blame but themself.

“Are you sure it’s safe, Kuro?” Kenma asks, hating themself for asking.

Kuroo drops the grin and the playfulness of his tone, knowing Kenma is serious about his concern for Hinata’s safety. “You know there’s no 100% guarantee,” Kuroo says softly. “We have never tried this before—hell, no one has. There are variables we don’t know about in this equation. We can’t do anything about those. So yes, there is always the risk that he could end up hurt or killed.” Kuroo turns Kenma’s chin to look up at him.

“It’s risk we have to take, that _Hinata_ has to take. The fate of the world is so much more important than a single life, you know this.” Kenma sighs and nods. They know; of course they know. And they won’t throw a wrench into the plan when they’re already halfway through. Kenma just wishes it weren’t Hinata.

Kuroo pulls them closer, sensing Kenma’s worry and unhappiness. Kenma curls gratefully onto Kuroo’s chest, listening to the steady beating of his partner’s heart. They calm down a bit, synchronizing their breathing with Kuroo’s, comforted by the constant reminder that he was alive. “It’s more than likely that it will be fine,” Kuroo assures Kenma. “You were fine, weren’t you?”

“That’s not the same,” Kenma argues gently, but they understand what Kuroo means. In all likelihood, they were worrying for nothing. Kenma twines their legs with Kuroo’s, wiggling around to get comfortable, then falls asleep with the thought that Hinata wouldn’t do anything he wasn’t comfortable with putting his mind at ease.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Hinata meets Kenma for Drift practice the next morning as per usual, but this time Kenma is unusually intense, pulling Hinata to the side and shushing him when Hinata opens his mouth to speak. Kenma shakes their head and gestures for Hinata to follow them. Amusingly enough to Hinata, they lead him into the guts of the base where they first met. Around them, the hiss of steam conceals their footsteps, and Hinata starts to get excited. This was like some kind of secret mission!

Kenma stops them when they determine they’re far enough in. Kenma turns to Hinata, the seriousness in their eyes making Hinata shut up and the playfulness leave his expression. “What’s wrong?” He asks Kenma worriedly.

Kenma shakes their head. “Nothing’s…wrong, per se. I just…I’ve been keeping something from you. Something you need to know if you’re going to continue Drifting with me.”

Hinata nods, eyes wide and earnest. “You can trust me, Kenma. I won’t tell anyone.”

Kenma smiles a little at that. “I know. I trust you.” The smile falls away and they take a deep breath. “Back before you were even recruited, probably, Kuro and I did something colossally stupid. It was just…some scientists had a crazy idea that they could beat the kaiju in one fell swoop. Kuro and I didn’t know what we were doing—I guess the novelty of piloting had worn off or something—but either way, it was a stupid and reckless decision. We decided to volunteer for their…experiment. Well, I did. Kuro was so capable; I didn’t want him to get hurt by accident when he was far more valuable than I was.” Kenma takes a breath, tired already from talking.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” Hinata offers generously.

Kenma shakes their head. “No, you have to know. They…they had a device to let me Drift with a kaiju. A dead one, given, but it still had some brain activity, and they thought that if I Drifted with it, I would be able to learn all the secrets about their creators.” Hinata’s eyes are as wide as saucers. “It…kind of worked. I have a connection with the hivemind of kaiju now, but the weight of the information overwhelmed me and I had to back out. I still see bits and pieces of the other side of the Breach—the Anteverse—but not much.”

“Kenma…” Hinata starts, but Kenma shushes him.

“The reason I’m telling you all this is that the Precursors, the kaijus’ creators, can see me when I’m in the Drift. I have to build up a wall against them so that they can’t see too much of me or my partner, but they _try_. And they know that I know. That’s why we started getting Category Four kaiju. Probably.”

“So what I saw in the Drift that first time…”

“Yeah,” Kenma confirms. “You wandered out of my protection and the Precursors saw you. Don’t worry, there’s no lasting connection. Just the memory.”

Hinata is quiet for a moment, but then his face splits into a smile. “Kenma…oh my god, this is _incredible_.” Hinata grabs a hold of Kenma’s shoulders. “You’re like—like some kind of super spy, infiltrating them from the inside out!”

“You’re not…scared?” Kenma asks tentatively.

“What? No!” Hinata says, getting more and more excited. “No way! This must be the closest anyone has ever gotten to beating the kaiju…oh man, if only you could tap in to that without the aliens seeing you…think of what a weapon that would be!”

“You probably won’t want to Drift with me anymore, though,” Kenma says. “There’s always the chance that they could find you.”

Hinata looks crestfallen. “Aw, but I’m not scared, Kenma. What are they going to do, send more kaiju after us? They do that already. _Please_ let me keep Drifting with you. I want to see them again.”

Kenma is completely and utterly baffled. “What I do is so dangerous. Why would you want to…?”

Hinata looks at him seriously. “Kenma, do you not understand how important what you’re doing is? Obviously, we can’t all do it, but this is the first step to being able to launch a _counterattack_ , not just defend.” He pauses, smiling shyly. “You’re _amazing_.”

Kenma doesn’t have anything to say to that. They’re blushing and looking away, embarrassed, although part of them still worries about how much Hinata sounded like Kuroo, just now. “Well…then I guess I can show you just a little bit.”

Hinata whoops with excitement. Kenma eyes him carefully, and then before they can think better of it, they embrace Hinata in a tight hug, nuzzling against his neck. Hinata wraps his arms around Kenma in return, surprised at first, but then understanding and warm.

“Thank you for not being afraid,” Kenma whispers, and Hinata laughs lightly.

“What are best friends for?”

This time when they Drift, Kenma shields Hinata when they wander into the darkness at the back of Kenma’s mind, falling, but not as fast and hopelessly as Hinata had the first time. This time, it’s more of a gentle floating downwards. The creeping evil is still right outside Kenma’s thin layer of protection, but Hinata doesn’t feel as frightened when Kenma is with him. Kenma pushes through the malevolence of the hivemind gently, trying to find just the tiniest sliver of the other side to show Hinata. And when they do, Hinata’s breath is stolen away.

For all the horror the Precursors shone upon Hinata and Kenma when they Drifted into the hivemind, the Anteverse is still stunningly beautiful. A myriad of blues and purples and _stars_ everywhere, clusters of golden-red gases and solar systems Hinata couldn’t possibly name in a thousand years. They saw just the smallest flash of one of the Precursors, insectoid and gigantic, several times larger than a man, as hideous and terrifying as the kaiju themselves. But their homeworld was still the almost soft, magical image of space that fascinated kids when they saw pictures of star nurseries and creation dust, high in the sky.

Kenma yanks them out and away from the Anteverse after only a moment, pulling them both out of the hivemind and the Drift in one movement that leaves Hinata’s head spinning. Kenma, too, is disoriented, and they end up stumbling off the command platform and into each other, sinking to the floor, collapsed against one another.

“It’s…beautiful,” Hinata says after he’s caught his breath. “And fascinating. I can’t believe—is that really them, Kenma? Our enemies?”

Kenma nods. “It’s them.” Hinata leans his head back with a thunk against the metal of the test pod.

“Kenma,” he says slowly, “whatever it is you do with the Precursors and the hivemind and the Anteverse, whatever the Marshal has you doing, I want to be of help to you.”

Kenma looks away, unable to meet Hinata’s eyes after he implied that the Marshal had any idea what Kenma was doing with his…gift. “Just Drifting with me is enough, Shouyou. Your friendship is enough.” _But that’s not true at all, is it_. They hesitate. “Well, I suppose there is one other thing…”

Kenma spills the secret. They reveal all the details of the operation to Hinata, wanting him to be informed before he decides to join in on the plan. Maybe a part of Kenma is still hoping that Hinata will turn them down. Maybe a part of them is excited to have Hinata on board. Kenma doesn’t know.

But whatever they feel or hope doesn’t matter, because as Kenma reveals Hinata’s place in the plan, life and purpose begin to shine in Hinata again, and Kenma already knows what his answer will be.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------

 

That same life begins to shine on other parts of Hinata’s life, and Kenma isn’t the only one to notice. Kageyama notices, almost violently so, when Hinata stops dancing around him altogether. The avoidance doesn’t cease—except Kageyama realizes that it’s not avoidance; he’s going to see Kenma, and Kageyama feels rather foolish for assuming that he could disrupt Hinata’s schedule that much just by _existing_.

Ever since they defeated the kaiju with their new team, Hinata started treating Kageyama like he was his partner again. It begins with just the small things.

“C’mon Kageyama, wake up,” Hinata murmurs sleepily, nudging Kageyama with his knee, a toothbrush in his mouth, garbling his words. Kageyama comes to solely because Hinata was _voluntarily_ touching him, even trying to wake him up. Kageyama cracks a single eye open to look up at Hinata, toothpaste foam around the edges of his mouth. “Don’t you need to see Akaashi-san?” He asks, and Kageyama ducks his head under the covers to avoid flying toothpaste spit.

“Idiot!” He growls from beneath his blankets. “Wash your mouth out before you talk to me!”

“Whatever,” Hinata says, continuing to brush his teeth and padding out of their room. Kageyama sits up when he’s gone, rubbing at his eyes to make sure this isn’t some kind of weird hallucination, but yes, Hinata has woken him up with just enough time to get ready before he went to see Akaashi out on the beach with Yamaguchi.

He wanders out into their kitchenette, still confused at this change of heart, but decides, fuck it, he’s making pancakes. Some childishly hopeful part of Kageyama compels him to throw some chocolate chips in, as if doing so would convince Hinata to stay for breakfast.

It _does._

Kageyama isn’t entirely sure Hinata hasn’t been replaced by an alien, the next phase of the enemy’s plans. Invasion of the Bodysnatchers, or whatever it was called. Hinata hums happily, murmuring a ‘thanks for the food!’ and digging in to it ravenously. Kageyama can’t do this—he has to know. “Why’re you being so _nice_ to me, all of a sudden?” He asks.

Hinata looks up, eyes wide and a pancake half-shoved in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. When he finally swallows, he answers. “We’re okay, though, aren’t we now?” He returns the question.

Kageyama shrugs. He doesn’t want to mention the Ghost Drift or the way Hinata is kicking his feet anxiously because _he knows_ that everything isn’t _all_ okay. “It’s weird,” he mutters finally.

Hinata sticks his tongue out. “You’re weird.”

Kageyama rolls his eyes and plops another pancake on Hinata’s plate, the surrealism of the situation making his appetite disappear. “You never told me what you’re doing with Kozume-san, anyway,” Kageyama mentions, testing his luck.

Hinata screws up his nose. “I forgot that you still called him ‘Kozume-san,’” Hinata says.

Kageyama blushes a little, although he doesn’t know why. “Because I’m not close to them like you are!” He snaps. “It’s so weird, that you call them ‘Kenma’—I don’t call Akaashi-san ‘Keiji.’”

“But Akaashi-san isn’t your best friend, right?” Hinata points out, helping himself to another pancake. Kageyama feels strangely hurt, although he pinpoints it as being hurt that _Kenma_ is Hinata’s best friend and wants to smack himself for feeling jealous when he and Hinata hardly even got along.

“Guess not,” Kageyama says with a shrug. “But what do you _do_ with Kozume-san every morning?”

Hinata brightens. “He’s teaching me how to Drift properly! I’ve learned a lot about Drifting technique from him, while Bokuto-san teaches me about battle strategy and working with a Jaeger—well, as much as he can teach me when Omega is so unique.”

Kageyama is grateful for the conversation. He even throws in a few comments he knows will antagonize Hinata into bickering with him, but it’s all in good spirit, nothing hurtful. Normally, Kageyama would have felt comforted by this change, seen it as a sign that things were finally going to get better between them, but there was still something…off.

It persisted through the rest of the week, long enough for Kageyama to know it was more than just his imagination. Sometimes, when Hinata got to talking—especially about Kenma—he got this far off look in his eyes. It was the kind of look Kageyama would usually associate with recalling a memory, that distant gaze and focus, but it was geared forward. Hinata spaced out thinking about the future.

“It’s like he has something important to do,” Kageyama tells Akaashi and Yamaguchi one day after they spar on the beach and instead of going inside decide to laze around on the sand before the water comes in. “He’s never completely in the present, but fixated on something that’s coming in the future.” Kageyama sighs, frustrated. He doesn’t know how else to describe it.

Akaashi exchanges glances with Yamaguchi. “Maybe he just feels that something good is going to come soon, Tobio,” Akaashi suggests. “After so many tears and so much suffering, could you blame him for hoping for a brighter future?”

“No,” Kageyama agrees. “I couldn’t. But I’m telling you, it’s more than that.”

They’re all silent for a moment. Yamaguchi opens his mouth to speak and regrets the words the moment they leave his lips. “Maybe he’s involved with Kozume-san. You know, romantically.” Kageyama grits his teeth.

“Impossible,” Akaashi sighs. “Though I don’t blame you for thinking so. Kenma is as aromantic and asexual as they come, boys. I’m her queerplatonic; I would know.”

Kageyama flips around to look at Akaashi. “Then what about Kuroo-san?”

Akaashi doesn’t meet his gaze but blinks once, slowly. “Tetsurou is probably in love with Kenma. That much wouldn’t surprise me. But he’s also not enough of an idiot to expect her to love him back. What they are is none of my business, but it’s something Hinata and I wouldn’t have a chance competing with.”

Now, Akaashi does look at Kageyama. “If this is what’s eating at you, rest easy, Tobio—there’s no way Hinata is fooling around behind your back with Kenma.”

Kageyama scowls. “It’s more than that.” Akaashi and Yamaguchi look at him expectantly. Kageyama sighs angrily. “Yes, I will wholly admit that I am envious of their relationship. The fact that Kozume-san can understand Hinata so easily and get along like they’ve known each other for years is frustrating given how well Hinata and I have known each other. But on the other hand, Kozume-san has never done anything to piss Hinata off.”

He slumps back against the sand. “I just want to know where I stand, and if that isn’t satisfactory, I want to know what I can do to make things better between us. I want to heal; this wound’s been open long enough.”

“That’s a very reasonable desire,” Akaashi says. “Of course, you’re not going to like what I have to say about it.” Kageyama groans.

“You need to open your heart to him, again,” Akaashi says, and it’s expected. Kageyama groans louder and smushes his face with his hands.

“I don’t want to do _that_ ,” he mutters.

“No, listen to me,” Akaashi presses. “You’re in the wrong here. You were the first to close your heart off, and not just a little bit—completely. You did serious damage to the trust between you two, so it’s up to you—yes, _again_ —to take the first step to fixing it. Hinata will either play along or he won’t, but either way, you’ll have put your best foot forward and gotten your answer.”

“It’s good advice,” Yamaguchi pipes up.

“I _know_ ,” Kageyama growls. “Doesn’t mean I want to do it.”

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------

 

And yet, despite all his misgivings, there he is, trailing Hinata three evenings later after training, trying to work up the courage to sit down and have a real talk.

Hinata doesn’t seem to notice anything is amiss. He’s skipping and singing to himself, having successfully trounced Kageyama in all their exercises, due to the same worry eating at Kageyama right now. How the hell was he supposed to do this? ‘Sorry that I’ve been a dick to you Hinata, can we pretend like it all didn’t happen’? That made him sound like _even more_ of a dick.

Hinata unlocks the door to their quarters, and Kageyama sees his chance start to slip through his fingers. “Hinata,” he calls, stepping into the darkness of their foyer. The shadows make everything seem immediately too intimate, and the desperate call of Hinata’s name didn’t help. Hinata turns around anyway, eyes glittering in the low light.

“Kageyama?” He prompts, sounding innocently confused.

 _Open up to him. Open up to him. Once upon a time, he loved you. He won’t hurt you now_. “I…are you planning on switching co-pilots?” Kageyama blurts out. He’s shocked as the words coming out of his mouth are not the planned ones, but his truest worries. Hinata looks equally shocked.

“I…what?” He asks, too dumbfounded to form a coherent response.

“Your extra training with Kozume-san and Bokuto-san…taking control of the Drift…treating me extra kindly lately…I thought you were just trying to break it to me gently,” Kageyama confesses quietly. He hadn’t been able to say these things to Akaashi or Yamaguchi for fear that they would look at him knowingly and say _well, we didn’t want to be the ones to tell you, but…_ “Are you going to replace me?” He asks again.

Hinata’s face changes from shocked to concerned in a heartbeat. He doesn’t say a word at first, just takes Kageyama’s hand and pulls him to their couch, sitting him down beside Hinata. “We need to _talk_ ,” Hinata sighs, and for a moment, Kageyama truly believes that his hunch was correct, that Hinata had finally had enough of him.

“Of _course_ I’m not going to replace you, Jesus,” Hinata assures him. Hinata offers Kageyama a timid smile. “I never gave up on you in the first place, you know.”

 _Of course he didn’t_. Hinata didn’t give up on anything, did he? It didn’t matter if it was overcoming the odds against him in piloting or overcoming Kageyama’s own stubborn resistance to letting someone else care about him—Hinata never gave in. Kageyama was just another one of his obstacles.

“Even when you pushed me and I got really, really mad at you, I couldn’t bring myself to think ‘this is the end, I’ll never be able to fix things with Kageyama,’ no matter how many times I thought we might have been better off that way,” Hinata admits. He’s still holding Kageyama’s hand, and Kageyama can’t bring himself to look away from their intertwined fingers.

Hinata raises his other hand and gently chops Kageyama on his head. Kageyama looks up at that. Hinata gives him the warm, self-satisfied smile he always used to give Kageyama. “Don’t ever doubt our bond again, okay? We can be stronger than anyone, together—I truly believe that.”

Kageyama swallows, feeling small under the weight of Hinata’s faith in _them_. “I hurt you by cutting you out of my mind and heart. I…shit…I was afraid of holding you back, and afraid that you would want to leave me because of what my past was and who it made me. I’m…I’m so fucking _sorry_ , Hinata, I never wanted this to happen. I was just so scared,” he whispers, voice almost breaking.

Hinata squeezes his hand. “You can’t change things like that, so how could I judge you based on what happened to you then? I chose you, what, it’s been almost a year now? Almost a year ago, I chose you in the test Drift pods, and after you told me to take a chance and trust you, I did. I bet on _you_ Kageyama, and I’m going to follow through until the end. Trust in me now, one more time.”

Kageyama squeezes his hand back. “Yeah,” he croaks out. “Okay. Okay, this time for real.”

From their hands, a warmth billows out, intangible and invisible, but as real and familiar as home. The Ghost Drift envelops Hinata and Kageyama once more, so that he can feel the gentle brush of Hinata’s mind, unrestricted by the clinical, metallic taste of Drifting with the aid of the drivesuits. Hinata soothes his nerves and helps him to breathe again, and outside their minds, Hinata scoots closer to him, until they’re pressed flush together. Hinata lets out a shaky sigh and releases tension of his own, fluttering against Kageyama in relief that they were once more balanced and joined at the mind.

 _Am I forgiven?_ Kageyama asks, because he has to know, has to hear Hinata say it once to be satisfied.

 _Yes,_ Hinata replies, and then Kageyama feels a twinge of shame and embarrassment. _I was…probably too hard on you,_ Hinata admits. _True, what you did was somewhat cruel…but I wasn’t any better to you. We both fucked up._

“I don’t want to go through that again,” Kageyama murmurs. “Let’s make a promise, right now, that we won’t let anything get that far again. We can always resolve our differences. I promise you that.”

“I promise you, too,” Hinata says softly, then snorts. “Okay, but enough of this newlywed delicacy stuff. I’m tired and determined to have a snuggle buddy. It’s been a cold two months.”

“You can say that again,” Kageyama agrees wholeheartedly. He trails after Hinata into their room, this time not bothering to push their beds together but just collapsing on Kageyama’s, Hinata curling up on Kageyama’s chest. He complains about Kageyama having cold feet, to which Kageyama responds by pressing said cold feet against Hinata’s calves and causing him to shriek. Kageyama grumbles that Hinata has bad breath, but shoves a pillow in his face before Hinata can breathe on him.

They eventually fall back against each other, tired from the squabble, and Kageyama is almost asleep when he feels Hinata tense across the Drift, jerking him awake. “Was’it?” He mumbles.

Hinata props himself up on an elbow. “We shouldn’t have any secrets between us,” he replies, chewing at his lip. Kageyama is fully awake now.

“What happened?” He asks, nervous.

“With Kenma…the reason we spent so much time Drifting,” Hinata begins. “It’s not because I wanted to leave you, it’s because he was training me for something big. There’s a whole plan going on behind the scenes of this base, Kageyama, and I feel I ought to tell you about it. I’ve been placed in the most important role.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“Kageyama…Kenma and Kuroo-san want me to Drift with a kaiju. A live one this time. They want me to open up a bridge between the Anteverse and my mind in order to find the Precursors’ weakness. We’re preparing for the final battle.”

Kageyama’s world crumbles around him.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just to make it clear, bokukuro and akaken are the only confirmed queerplatonic relationships. although kenhina might as well be, smh.
> 
> oh hey and i'm throwing in a promotion for my new iwaoi fic, 'Build A Temple In Me.' it's definitely my favorite written work besides this ugly beast, and it has a happy ending!! it's a god/mortal au with a ghibli/mushishi/wolf children type of feel. give it a shot!
> 
> NEW TWITTER!! -- [**@sleepyficteer**](https://twitter.com/sleepyficteer)
> 
> (whispers// please listen to my fanmix im a sad audiophile)


	10. fortune favors the brave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pbtbbbtbtt sorry about how short this chapter is, god. i found it kind of tough to write considering only one thing really happens in this chap. 
> 
> also! just fyi to those not subscribed to my account: i have (foolishly) started two new multichap fics besides this one since there's only three chapters to go. as such, my priorities in writing chapters depends on which ones get the most attention, but hopefully bfmtias updates will not be affected by this.
> 
> and as you can see from the links below, i have gotten TONS of support and love and fanwork from my readers, and i just want to say thank you guys so much for sticking with me through this ;__; it's been a wild ride and it's beginning to wind down, so i hoped you've enjoyed the fic!
> 
> **[SECOND VOLUME OF THE OFFICIAL BFMTIAS SOUNDTRACK:](http://8tracks.com/bromosexuals/but-in-me-a-storm-rages) ** from kageyama's internal turmoil over hinata to daichi and koushi's informal wedding
> 
> [**THIRD VOLUME OF THE OFFICIAL BFMTIAS SOUNDTRACK:**](http://8tracks.com/bromosexuals/darkness-looms-here) the chapter seven playlist
> 
>  
> 
> **FANART:**  
> [hinata in the kwoon room](http://lazyartblog.tumblr.com/post/119575267507) // [lazyartblog](http://lazyartblog.tumblr.com)
> 
> [broken oikawa](http://naomibug.tumblr.com/post/117691185592) // [naomibug](http://naomibug.tumblr.com)
> 
> [daisuga hugs :((](http://yoursarcastichorse.tumblr.com/post/118291828286/) // [yoursarcastichorse](http://yoursarcastichorse.tumblr.com)
> 
> [haha suga clutching dogtags lol](http://cyluia.tumblr.com/post/118050683175/) // [cyluia](http://cyluia.tumblr.com)
> 
> [broken suga](http://funfreakingtastic.tumblr.com/post/112192243259/) // [funfreakingtastic](http://funfreakingtastic.tumblr.com)
> 
> [happy suga ft. sheet](http://setter-kun.tumblr.com/post/118454626391/littlecrow-nina-daichi-flourishes-the-sheet) // littlecrow-nina
> 
> [tooru!!](http://hetaliabunny.tumblr.com/post/115005549332) // [hetaliabunny](http://hetaliabunny.tumblr.com)
> 
> [daichi drowning (me, drowning)](http://rainbowderpyarts.tumblr.com/post/115278105853) //[ rainbowderpyarts](http://rainbowderpyarts.tumblr.com)
> 
> [oikawa and kageyama in the hospital ](http://midnightcityreddeer.tumblr.com/post/115732431149)// [midnightcityreddeer](http://midnightcityreddeer.tumblr.com)
> 
> [iwaois...](http://fenrisr.tumblr.com/post/116238071425) // [fenrisr](http://fenrisr.tumblr.com)
> 
> [suga and ch.9 doodles](http://punkflunked.tumblr.com/post/117135905232), [tyrant omega among others](http://punkflunked.tumblr.com/post/118197896327), [kwoon room hinakages](http://punkflunked.tumblr.com/post/118245752232) // [SCOUT](http://punkflunked.tumblr.com) (there are totally more but idk where rip)
> 
> [akakens](http://lazyartblog.tumblr.com/post/117212012967/) // [lazyartblog](http://lazyartblog.tumblr.com)
> 
> [TFW BOTWS AND BFMTIAS CROSSOVER?? PLS LOOK AT IF U LOVE OOFURI](http://oldbridges.tumblr.com/post/114141679748) // [oldbridges](http://oldbridges.tumblr.com)
> 
> **FANMIXES:**  
>  [the days are long](http://8tracks.com/angryseaweed/the-days-are-long)
> 
> [the last lullaby](http://8tracks.com/benjaymine/the-last-lullaby)
> 
> [From the concrete to the coast](http://8tracks.com/randamqueen/from-the-concrete-to-the-coast)
> 
> [But For Me There Is A Storm](http://8tracks.com/iseten/but-for-me-there-is-a-storm)
> 
> [just drifting through](http://8tracks.com/prncsssarahj/just-drifting-through)
> 
> [i will miss you, distance aside](http://8tracks.com/museoftime/i-will-miss-you-distance-aside)
> 
> [let loss reveal it](http://8tracks.com/kogaoogami/let-loss-reveal-it)

Hinata imagines this scenario going down several different ways. In most of the scenes, Kageyama gets pissed, flipping on his side and snarling at Hinata for being a reckless idiot, maybe reaching over and squeezing Hinata’s head tightly, like he could force the stupid out of Hinata’s brain. Sometimes, he gets dangerously quiet, pulling Hinata tight to his chest, heart thudding in sharp fear for the both of them. Other times, he pulls the plug on their team, leaving Hinata cold in bed once again. Those are the worst ones.

In telling Kageyama, Hinata is going against Kenma’s wish for this operation to be a secret—not like he would have been able to keep it secret from Kageyama for too long, though. He doesn’t have the back-up of his best friend and local recipient of every Kageyama-rant Hinata has ever gone on. Hinata doesn’t have Kenma’s analysis on his side, helping him to foresee every outcome (even if doing so prompted Kenma to groan and shove his face between Hinata’s shoulder blades where they lay curled together on Kenma’s bed). He might have handled it poorly. He might have shattered the peace they had just regained after months of stormy seas.

The truth is, Hinata just doesn’t know how Kageyama will react to the news. He’s flying blind. And because he’s flying blind, Kageyama’s response catches him completely off-guard.

The feeling of Kageyama’s soul-wrenchingly deep horror and _fear_ pierces Hinata’s heart and mind across the Ghost Drift, a sensory overload that drowns out Hinata’s rationality and overwhelms it with Kageyama’s dread, forcing adrenaline into his veins and spiking his pulse. It’s a cloying, metallic taste in his mouth and a ringing in his ears, but Hinata can’t even begin to pinpoint the source of the fear resonating across their bond.

“Whoa, whoa, Kageyama!” Hinata cries out, trying to slow the tidal wave of emotion pouring from his partner. He calls for Kageyama to come back to him in his mind, but Kageyama can’t hear him. Finally, Hinata takes Kageyama’s face in his hands and gives him a good shake, cutting off their mental connection as gently as he can.

“Hey,” Hinata says softly when he feels the panic start to die down, lingering murmurs of _Hajime-san_ and _Oikawa-san_ rippling across Hinata’s psyche. “You with me, buddy?”

“You _can’t_ ,” Kageyama states numbly, voice dull with shock.

Hinata exhales softly. “I have to. I’m the only one who fits the job description. We won’t get another chance like this.”

Kageyama’s eyes lose their glazed over look and focus on Hinata, quietly intense. “It’s _not_ in the job description. Fucking—even the fucking _Marshal_ would never ask you to do something so goddamn _crazy_. It’s a suicide mission, Hinata! You don’t even know what will happen, or if you’ll get hurt—”

“I do,” Hinata whispers. “Kenma did it, before. With a dead one. They’re okay.”

Kageyama sucks in a breath, eyes wide. “So the rumor’s true, then?” Hinata nods, and Kageyama’s eyes narrow. “Sounds like Kenma’s the local expert on kaiju Drifting. Why don’t they just do it themself, then?”

Hinata shifts beside Kageyama, hands falling from his face to smooth the material of his night shirt along his shoulders. “That’s not…it’s not safe. For them.”

“But it is for you.” Kageyama snorts in disbelief.

“You wouldn’t understand,” Hinata snaps. “You haven’t seen what I’ve seen.”

Hinata moves to pull his hands away completely and Kageyama catches them in his own hands, running a thumb over Hinata’s knuckles. “Sorry. You’re right; I don’t know a thing about this operation. But I also know that _they_ don’t either. Even if Kozume-san did Drift with a dead kaiju, you don’t know the damage a live one could do. Hell, how are you even supposed to _get_ a live kaiju without dying?”

Hinata looks away sheepishly. “That…would be where the rest of you come in. The plan hasn’t exactly been approved by the Marshal yet, but it would involve in all the teams incapacitating a kaiju in order to perform the Drift.”

“Sounds easy,” Kageyama growls. “I could do that with one hand tied behind my back.”

Hinata pouts. “Look, I know it sounds like bull. I know it sounds absolutely reckless and stupid, but what else are we going to do, Kageyama? We can’t just fight kaiju until they outgrow and overpower us.”

“But we don’t have to sacrifice one of our most brilliant pilots to instigate a counterattack, either,” Kageyama mumbles.

Hinata stops pouting and loosens his grip on their connection. Their minds flutter back together, and he feels the entirety of Kageyama’s worry—worry for him as a person and a pilot; worry for Omega and the world if Hinata were to be lost; a selfish, guilty worry of what would happen to Kageyama if he lost his one, true, only partner; worry that he would become what Oikawa-san was and Suga-san was fighting…

Hinata knocks his forehead against Kageyama’s. “You think too much,” he murmurs gently, threading his fingers through Kageyama’s in comfort. “I’ll be okay.”

“You don’t think enough,” Kageyama grouses. “And you don’t know that you’ll be okay.”

“Who’ll do it if not me?” Hinata points out.

“Don’t care, ‘s long as it’s not you,” Kageyama mumbles, tightening his grip around Hinata’s hands and blinking slowly.

“I’m stronger than you think,” Hinata assures him.

“No, you’re just as strong as I think you are,” Kageyama shakes his head, bangs tickling Hinata’s nose with the motion. “You’re the strongest damn person on this base, but that’s a _kaiju_ , and when I think about you trying to meld minds with something purely violent and with a brain bigger than your body, it just doesn’t seem possible that you’ll survive.”

Hinata is quiet for a moment. He pulls their joined hands up to his mouth and runs them across his lips softly, in thought. Kageyama searches across the bond for a reaction, but finds only Hinata’s indecisiveness and warmth. “I’ve seen them,” he says slowly. “The Precursors in the Anteverse. I’ve felt their gaze flay me alive, but I think…I think I can bear it. Just long enough to figure out a weakness, I can do it.”

Kageyama doesn’t want to know how that’s possible, but he sees flashes of the test Drift room and Kenma’s two-tone hair, and he knows. “Shouldn’t have shown you that,” Hinata murmurs distractedly.

“No secrets, right,” Kageyama notes. Hinata gives him a look.

“If it’s honesty hour,” he begins, “then why don’t you tell me about that self-loathing worry you’ve got going on in that big head of yours?”

Kageyama winces, wants to pull away. But Hinata deserves to know. “I won’t deny that my stance on this issue is biased. So much of what my life was and people who meant something to me were snatched away by kaiju. To lose you, on top of all that would be…unthinkable.”

“You wouldn’t turn out like them,” Hinata assures him. “You’re better.”

Kageyama frowns. “It’s rude to speak poorly of the ill and deceased.”

“I’m not,” Hinata argues. “You have a reason to keep going, a motivation. Your worst fear is becoming like them, not losing me. You’re stronger than my death.”

_Than his death_. How casually Hinata was able to speak of his own mortality. Kageyama envied him for it. “That may be true, but I wouldn’t be able to pilot again. We are the perfect, only pair that can work with Omega. I’m probably too ingrained with your psyche, too, to be able to Drift with another.”

“You’re so full of shit,” Hinata snorts. “Yeah, you’d lose Omega, but you could do it. You were born to be a pilot, same way you were born to be a setter.” He gives Kageyama a lopsided smile, and Kageyama’s heart aches for this stupid, stupidly brave boy.

“Dumbass,” he mutters. Hinata laughs at the lack of heat behind the insult.

“I’m not going to leave you alone, though,” Kageyama states, leaving no room for argument. “A Jaeger needs two pilots, and Kozume-san can fuck off if they think I’ll be giving them my spot.”

“I can’t ask that of you,” Hinata starts.

“Didn’t ask your permission, did I?” Kageyama retorts. “I’ve had it to here with standing on the sidelines. I’ll ride with you to the end, and don’t you dare forget that.”

Hinata’s smile loses its bravado and falls into something fragile and pretty, something honest. “You’d do that for me? Even when you are so afraid?”

“You’d go with or without me. Unfortunately, I can only trust myself with your care and keeping. What would I do if not pilot? Twiddle my thumbs in the Control Room while everyone risks their lives?”

“When you say it like that, I guess it’s a no-brainer,” Hinata sighs. He curls into Kageyama’s chest, signaling the end of their conversation. Kageyama drapes an arm around Hinata’s waist loosely and yawns.

“Promise me that if it gets too bad, you’ll get out,” Kageyama says. “As much as intel may be worth, it’s the competent pilots that win the war, and we can’t go on without you.”

Hinata huffs against his neck. “I’ll do my best.” It’s the best offer Kageyama’s going to get.

He closes his eyes on a mess of orange and an ember in his arms. It feels good to be connected like this, physically as well as mentally. Hinata hums agreement across the bond. But before Kageyama can get seriously close to sleep, Hinata presses his lips to Kageyama’s ear sleepily and murmurs, “Kageyama? Thank you.”

He’s not sure if he sleeps better or worse after that.

 

\------------------------------------------

 

It certainly feels like he’s slept worse when he wakes up the next day, missing his early morning routine with Akaashi and Yamaguchi but still feeling like he has been hit by a truck. Hinata is missing, no doubt letting him sleep out of misguided kindness, believing he needed the extra hours. Kageyama sits up, squinting at the light left on in their quarters and feeling like simultaneously like a vampire and a zombie.

His reflection reveals what he already knew to be true—disheveled hair with a few stray tufts sticking out at odd angles, bags under his eyes, and a scowl that would frighten children for months. He brushes his teeth sluggishly as his memory of last night catches up and yes, Hinata _was_ planning on Drifting with a kaiju, it wasn’t just some bizarre stress dream of his.

Kageyama considers making breakfast for all of two seconds before he decides that it is too early for all this shit to be happening. Also, staying alone in their quarters sulking and obsessing wasn’t going to get Hinata any farther from danger.

Going to see Akaashi was the only choice that made any sense.

Thankfully, the elder Ranger kept their phone on them at all times. Kageyama sent the most ominous text of _we need to talk_ in order to express his urgency, but predictably, Akaashi was already a few steps ahead of him, replying with a timely _I think I know what this is about. Meet me on Sugawara’s balcony._

Their jacket is open, the edges suspended in air by the breeze that coasted up the base from the ocean to that balcony. Akaashi leans on the railing of the balcony, hands clasped together loosely, gaze focused somewhere out at sea or deep in their thoughts. Kageyama coughs politely and Akaashi blinks, turning around to give Kageyama a faint smile.

“Tobio,” they greet, warmth in their voice. Kageyama replies with a nod.

“Akaashi-san, if you don’t mind, I’d like to get right to it,” Kageyama says politely.

Akaashi nods, as if they were expecting it. “That’s fine. I’ll tell you what I know.”

Kageyama takes a deep breath. “Were you aware that Hinata is part of a plan orchestrated by Kuroo-san and Kozume-san in which he is to Drift with a live kaiju in order to gain intel?”

“I was,” Akaashi replies gently, noting the look of shock on Kageyama’s face.

“And you never told me?” He says softly.

“It was top-secret until just recently,” Akaashi apologizes. “Not even Hinata knew what he was being trained for. I’m sorry; if the situation weren’t so delicate I would have told you long ago.”

“So Marshal Ukai really doesn’t know.” Kageyama sounds stumped.

“I’m sure he has his guesses, now,” Akaashi confesses. “Tetsurou was forced to inquire about necessary equipment with Nishinoya Yuu—not really the best at keeping secrets. When combined with Tetsurou’s atrocious skills in maintaining confidentiality, I’m sure Noya-san has sensed that something is up and informed the already suspicious Marshal.”

Kageyama leans on the railing next to Akaashi. “Why not just tell the Marshal? What’s with all this damn _secrecy_?”

“Tetsurou and Kenma’s methods are…unconventional, at best, threatening at worst,” Akaashi sighs. “They are somewhat notorious for their disregard of collateral damage, be it infrastructure, equipment, or human life—but you knew that already.”

Kageyama nods slowly. “I’d heard about them from my senpai. Didn’t believe it ‘til I saw it, though.” His expression darkens. “I have…misgivings…about Hinata being selected as their ‘special’ candidate for what sounds very much like a suicide mission.”

Akaashi flips around and crosses their arms, drumming their fingers on one arm. They don’t say anything for a moment, and Kageyama waits patiently for Akaashi to compose their thoughts. They rub beneath their eyes with yet another long sigh, and it’s then that Kageyama notices the dark circles under their eyes, too.

“You deserve complete and utter honesty,” Akaashi decides. “Koutarou and I…we don’t like it either. Hinata is a young pilot full of promise, and on top of that, one of only two pilots so far that have proved they can master the Test Type Jaeger.”

“Exactly,” Kageyama agrees. “He’s too valuable to use in an experiment like this.”

“Except, he’s also the only viable candidate for the operation, too. He has the strongest mental fortitude out of all the pilots here, and even more than that, he truly wants to give it a try.” Akaashi gives Kageyama a stern look. “Make sure that you don’t confuse your own desire for him not to go and us forcing him into this position. Hinata is, and always will be, a volunteer.”

“I know,” Kageyama grumbles. “He was very insistent about it last night.”

Akaashi places a hand on Kageyama’s shoulder comfortingly. “Listen…I understand how rough this is for you. With a past like yours, putting a partner in a high-risk situation is the last thing you want to do. But it isn’t about you,” they say gently. “It is about _him_.”

“If it was Bokuto-san…” Kageyama begins.

“I would probably try to talk him out of it,” Akaashi admits. “But even if Tetsurou and Kenma are unsavory at times, they are ultimately right that the needs and survival of the many outweigh the needs and survival of the few. This is the world we’re talking about. The world for a boy.”

Kageyama doesn’t say anything, but Akaashi reads his response on his face anyway, Kageyama can tell from the gentle pull of their eyebrows and sad smile. “Come on,” Akaashi says. “Everything will come to light rather soon. The pieces are in place, and the time for the humans to make the first offensive move draws near. There is no point in veiling the chessboard any longer.”

They guide Kageyama away from the railing with a hand between his shoulders. The contact, pleasant as it is, doesn’t still the nerves in Kageyama’s belly or the dread that lingers at the edges of his thoughts, the instinctual knowledge that somehow, something was going to go terribly wrong.

In the distance, thunder rumbles.

 

\------------------------------------------

 

“Alright,” Marshal Ukai says as Akaashi and Kageyama enter the big meeting room. He has a distinct sense of déjà vu, remembering his ace pilots arriving at the meeting where he and Takeda unveiled Tyrant Omega with the same looks of low-key anxiousness hidden under professionalism that a few of his teams now show, most importantly Bokuto Koutarou and Kozume Kenma. Akaashi, as always, is an impassive wall of secrecy when need be, and Kuroo hasn’t stopped smirking since he arrived on base. “That’s everyone, then. Let’s get this meeting started.”

“A certain matter has been brought to my attention by Nishinoya. While I’m sure many of you know what I’m about discuss, others are in the dark, and it’s time this whole fiasco was brought to light,” Ukai says, crossing his hands behind his back. “A few days back, Kuroo Tetsurou inquired about specialty scientific equipment so rare it isn’t even manufactured anymore—a neural spike.”

Ukai wishes, above all else, that he had the Ghost Drift with Takeda at this moment in time. As much as it hindered the usefulness of pilots once their partners had fallen in battle, right now, he can’t gauge everyone’s reaction to this discovery. At his side, Takeda is busily making note of half the room while Ukai watches the others, but he truly doesn’t know the extent to which Kuroo and Kenma have infiltrated his base, and it makes him furious. Was Tsukishima in on their plot? Yamaguchi seemed reasonably surprised, as did Hinata, but Kageyama just frowned in thoughtfulness. Could they really be influential enough to break apart teams, divide their loyalties? It was so hard when they were so…

“You caught us, Marshal,” Kuroo sighs. “We’ll confess everything.”

…Secretive.

“Take the floor, Kuroo,” Ukai commands through gritted teeth. “And keep in mind that Takeda and I are very seriously considering prosecuting you for insubordination, conspiracy against the state, and perhaps even reopening the investigation into your dishonorable conduct in wartime.”

“Thank you, Marshal, sir,” Kuroo replies pleasantly, dipping his head. “I’ll take that under advisement.” At his side, Kenma refuses to meet anyone’s eyes.

Ukai may have thought that he had the upper hand at this assembly, but it’s clear from the way that Kuroo snaps to attention, his usual slouch disappearing into the military professionalism everyone doubted he had as smoothly as one slides into water. He seems taller, somehow—maybe because with shoulders throw back, chin lifted, and the disappearance of any amusement on his face created an aura of tension and power and _authority_ that had everyone in the room straightening up a little themselves.

“About two years ago,” Kuroo begins, “when the first Category Four kaiju appeared on the Pacific front, Kenma and I came to the conclusion that not only was this war never going to end, but it was about to slide swiftly out of our favor in the coming years. So far, we’ve done a great job of defending earth, but we’re only treating the symptoms of the disease—the source of the infection that is the kaiju invasion. The truth is, humankind really isn’t advanced enough to survive alien warfare, not at this point in time. We needed a solution. And fast.”

Kuroo places a hand on Kenma’s shoulder. “In our younger years, Kenma was able to successfully Drift with the second brain of a dead kaiju with very few physical repercussions. It was a stupid decision of our youth, true, but what Kenma gained from that experience was insight into the world of the kaiju that no other human on earth had.”

“The Anteverse is not like this world,” Kenma says quietly. “There is no true ‘separation’ of beings, thus proving the theory of the hivemind that some scientists have proposed.” They nod at Noya, who nods back enthusiastically. “Because of this, I can predict kaiju attacks fairly easily if I tap into that link, but as a consequence, I am a part of the hivemind, to a lesser extent than the kaiju.”

“You’re a danger to everyone on this planet,” Tsukishima interrupts smoothly. “If you can see one way, then that should mean they can see the other. Am I wrong?”

“It’s not as drastic as that,” Kenma explains. “After all, I am just a miniscule piece of a puzzle larger than human comprehension. It’s much easier for me to find them than it is for them to find me.”

“That being said,” Kuroo says grimly, “They know about Kenma. If Kenma probes at the link too much, the kaiju tend to aim towards Japan and Tokyo. They want Kenma gone; they just haven’t figured out how to get them yet. That’s why when we Drift, Kenma must focus solely on protecting their mind and guiding me while I move the Jaeger.” There’s a stir of discontent among the pilots, and Hinata mouths ‘are you okay?’ at Kenma, who gives a small nod.

“That’s very interesting, of course,” Takeda says. “And it’s important for those not informed to understand the basis of your oddities, but do not try and distract from the reason for this meeting, which you have been doing quite effectively thus far.” Takeda’s face doesn’t reveal any impatience or hostility, just encouragement to stay on topic, but Kuroo and Kenma can read between the lines.

“We have to move to the offensive,” Kuroo says. “And we believe that we can use a connection like Kenma’s to get us there.”

“ _Like_ Kenma’s?” Yamaguchi picks up on the choice of words immediately. “Not Kenma’s actual connection?”

“Drifting with a kaiju now would most likely make my mind extremely vulnerable to the Precursors,” Kenma says. “I don’t know what they do to spies, but it wouldn’t be any good for humans as a whole.”

“Furthermore, we want to perform this Drift with a living kaiju’s primary brain,” Kuroo elaborates. “What Kenma saw were only flashes, and even now the link is weak. A stronger link and a live view into the Anteverse could be the final step we need to take to eliminate the kaiju and the Precursors. Get in, find a weakness, get out, exploit the weakness. It’s that simple.”

“It doesn’t sound simple at all,” Tsukishima argues quietly. “You don’t know how fast they will find the spy or what will happen to them after. What if the connection is large enough for them to see all our nukes and specialty Jaegers? What if they develop a counter to our counter? Who the hell would even volunteer for that?”

“I would,” Hinata declares, stepping in front of the assembly. The assembled go still. Ukai and Takeda’s eyes widen. Hinata? Their Hinata? The single uncalculated variable that mutated too fast to be predictable and continually exceeded expectations? _That_ Hinata?

Tsukishima seems equally as shocked, as does Yamaguchi. “Shouyou…why?” Yamaguchi whispers, looking at his friend with pleading eyes. “It’s so dangerous…”

Hinata shrugs one shoulder, giving Yamaguchi that same lopsided smile he had given Kageyama, with just an edge of sadness to it. “I’m the best one for the job.”

“It’s true,” Kuroo adds. “Since we first formulated the idea of Drifting with a live kaiju, Kenma and I have searched for a pilot strong enough to withstand whatever the Precursors plan to throw at them. We haven’t found any truly viable candidates besides you and Hinata.”

“Me?” Yamaguchi squeaks.

“Your unusual rise to pilothood and the stress Tsukishima put on you in the Drift until recently made you a potentially excellent choice,” Kuroo explains. “You’re a fighter, Yamaguchi. We needed a fighter.”

“However,” Akaashi interrupts, moving closer to Yamaguchi and placing a hand on his shoulder, “as I pointed out to you before, a regular connection is more difficult for you to maintain now, I believe you’ll agree?” Yamaguchi nods distantly. “Hinata is more suitable because of the strength of his connection with Kageyama. It’s abnormally solid, meaning that he could get more information and it is unlikely to break. The only problem would be establishing the link, but Kenma has been training him for that.”

“So you were in on all this, too. Akaashi. Bokuto.” The Marshal frowns hard, bothered that two of his oldest and most trustworthy pilots would go behind his back. Bokuto and Akaashi bow deeply at the waist.

“We give you our deepest apologies, Marshal Ukai, sir,” Bokuto says. “We never intended to keep secrets, but we had been aware of this plan before we returned to the base and were once again under your supervision. At Tetsurou and Kenma’s insistence, we kept details confidential—not because we wanted to keep you out of the loop, but because they wanted to finalize the details before presenting a plan as ludicrous as this one. They are trying their hardest to make this plan succeed, because they truly believe that it can work.”

“And do you?” Ukai asks.

Bokuto looks up. “Pardon?”

“Do you believe that this operation will be successful?” Ukai repeats. “Do you believe that Kuroo and Kozume are acting with the wellbeing of the entire world in mind?”

Bokuto and Akaashi straighten up. Bokuto meets Kuroo’s carefully neutral eyes, then Hinata’s resolved ones. He looks at Akaashi, his partner for the rest of time, and then he looks at Ukai again. “Yes,” Bokuto says firmly. “Tetsurou and Kenma are many things, and while good people isn’t one of those things, they would _never_ act in a way that would put the planet in danger. That is their one and only priority, even at the expense of anything else. They would never put forth a plan they believed would fail.”

It’s very well said. The corners of Kuroo's eyes crinkle fondly, and the look of adoration on his face breaks his professionalism. Akaashi nods and smiles in approval, brushing their fingers against the palm of Bokuto’s hand. The Marshal exchanges glances with Takeda.

“I still don’t like it, nor do I like the secrecy that went into its creation,” he sighs. “But if Bokuto is on board and Hinata has volunteered, then I’d rather hear the details in full with no secrets between us going forward. In a way, you’re right. The other Marshals and government officials have gotten together to discuss our situation, and it isn’t pretty. Azumane and Nishinoya will just confirm our fears. If this is a chance, we have to take it.” Kenma slumps in relief and Kuroo nods to the Marshal.

“Just one more thing,” Ukai says. “Kageyama, how do you feel about all this? This is your partner after all, and I assume that since you two are the only ones who can pilot Omega, you will be integrated deeply into the crux of the operation.”

Kuroo and Bokuto stiffen. Akaashi and Kenma look a little wary. Kageyama is the one variable that none of them could really measure. Akaashi knew Kageyama, but he was just as headstrong as Hinata, prone to impulsive changes and motivated solely by his desire to pilot and to keep Hinata safe. Kageyama looks uncomfortable being put on the spot.

“It’s not really my decision to make,” Kageyama finally decides on. “I won’t abandon Hinata to pilot alone or with an incompetent pilot. That’s where my involvement ends.”

“What a pathetically watery answer from someone so decisive and opinionated,” Tsukishima murmurs, fanning the flames and heightening the senior pilots’ anxiety.

“Kageyama?” Ukai prompts, this time with a no-nonsense tone.

Kageyama scowls. “No, I don’t like it. I think the amount of research done into the pilot’s safety is minimal at best, extrapolated from a situation that is entirely different in all except that it involved Drifting with a kaiju. With the anomalies in attacks recently, I think the probability that something will go wring is high, and I think that risking a pilot as invaluable as Hinata is foolish.” He exhales through his nose. “However, I do see the merit of the operation. If successful, this could revolutionize and even maybe end the war with no more casualties or destruction of civilization. In the end, I will leave the assessment of risk and benefit to someone else as I am far too biased to give you a rational answer. I hope this satisfies you, Marshal, sir.” Kageyama bows deeply.

“Kageyama,” Kenma says softly, causing Kageyama to look up. Kenma curls and uncurls their hands into fists, looking uncharacteristically agitated. “I promise you that we want to make this as safe for Shouyou as possible. That’s why Kuro asked that two of the scientists from Tokyo come here to help prepare the equipment needed for the operation. This won’t be done halfway.” Kageyama hears what they don’t say, the _I don’t want Shouyou to get hurt either_ and straightens up.

“Whoa, wait.” Noya, who had been quiet and keeping to himself up until that point, speaks up. “Do you mean…do you mean Mori is coming?”

Kuroo nods. “I asked Yaku to bring a neural spike with him along with any tech he thought you might need to make the custom equipment. Also Lev.”

Noya laughs. “That noodle boy? I’m pretty sure he’ll knock over half my scientific equipment and accidentally set the rest of it on fire, but he’s wicked bright. He’ll cut our work in half with his intellect and streamline the designs. Asahi is gonna have a _blast_ …” Noya whips around. “And _you_.” He points at Kenma. “You’re coming with me later for an MRI. Like hell I’m letting a perfect specimen like you escape this base without giving me enough samples to entertain me for _months_.”

Kenma steps behind Kuroo. “I prefer Lev,” they mutter, and Kuroo laughs.

Ukai gestures at the gathering, looking at Kageyama. “Is this acceptable to you?” He asks quietly. “You’re correct that this is Hinata’s decision, but I don’t take the instinct of a pilot lightly. God knows my old partner saved our asses innumerable times with her instinct.”

“It’s more than I expected,” Kageyama admits. “I can live with it, as long as they don’t cut any corners with safety.”

Hinata elbows Kageyama gently. “Yaku-san and Noya-san are the best at what they do, Kageyama. They’ll get me back home in one piece, guaranteed. I’m okay,” he says softer, “I’m more afraid of what will happen if we _don’t_ do this than I am of what will happen to me if we do.”

“Annoying,” Kageyama grumbles, ruffling his hair hard enough for Hinata to squeak.

Ukai, sensing the loss of concentration, clears his throat. “Meeting dismissed.”

 

\-------------------------------------

 

It’s dark by the time they head out of the base, no streetlamps to line the empty streets. The only light is the full moon, the smattering of stars—too dull and far away to be any comfort—and the yellowy-orange glow of the pub, neon lights declaring that The Iron Wall was open along with announcements of beer on tap. Darting ahead of the other three figures, Hinata skips backwards, tossing his head back and howling at the moon, a feral and free sound breaking off into a laugh when both Tsukishima and Kageyama tell him to shut up.

The night air barely stirs, only fluttering with a soft sigh that makes Kageyama’s bangs ruffle. It’s a relaxed atmosphere that can’t last in their line of work, but the sounds of frogs and crickets kicking up a symphony fool the boys into thinking that just for tonight, the war is off. When Yamaguchi rushes forward to grab Hinata’s hands and swing him around in a circle, whooping and laughing, Tsukishima and Kageyama hold their tongues.

Moniwa’s bar, unsurprisingly, is full of warmth and homeliness that is enough for Hinata and Yamaguchi to call out “ _Tadaima!_ ” upon entering, and even Tsukishima and Kageyama mutter a softer version of the greeting. Moniwa is actually out front for once, not hiding in the back, trapped under stacks of paperwork and homework from his university. He gives them amused smiles and a fond sigh, shaking his head.

“I keep telling you, you don’t have to say that,” he says, dimples in his cheeks despite the mock-annoyance. “This is a _bar_ , not a house.”

Hinata claps him on the back hard enough for Moniwa to cough. “Aw, but it’s kind of a home away from home, isn’t it? There isn’t a place around here for forty miles more comfortable and welcoming as The Iron Wall, and you know it!” Yamaguchi nods in agreement.

“Flattery won’t get you any free drinks,” Moniwa scolds, ruffling their heads and stepping behind the bar. He receives a few groans in response and smiles as he pulls down four glasses. “Just kidding.” He winks at the more excitable halves of the piloting duos. As they cheer, he turns his attention to Tsukishima and Kageyama.

“How have you two been?” He greets warmly. “Your partners are the same as ever, but I haven’t heard a single peep from the two most reserved pilots.”

“Hello Moniwa-san,” Kageyama returns the greeting with a dip of his head. “We’re…we just need a night out.” Moniwa’s forehead wrinkles in concern.

“I know it’s classified,” he sighs, “but you lot are always welcome here, you know? To talk about your problems with a sympathetic bartender or just to get a little drunk. I won’t ask any questions and make you uncomfortable.”

“We appreciate it,” Tsukishima says. “Actually, we have a lot to talk about amongst ourselves, so would you mind if we took the far table?”

“Not at all,” Moniwa agrees readily, pouring their beers. “You round up those two and I’ll take care of your usual orders.”

“Thank you,” Kageyama says quietly, pushing away from the bar and grabbing Hinata by the collar of his shirt, cutting him off mid-word. Hinata scrambles in his grip like a wet cat, complete with loud, wordless noises of protest, but is unable to free himself until Kageyama tosses him into the booth and slides in next to him.

“Why can’t you take care of me nicely?” Hinata whines, gesturing to how Tsukishima pulls Yamaguchi away with a firm hand at his elbow. He kicks his feet childishly and presses his cheek on the table, pouting at Kageyama. “You’re so mean.”

Kageyama tilts his head. “Would you prefer I draw you away softly, murmuring something in your ear and guiding you with a hand at the small of your back?” He replies smoothly, voice low. Hinata’s ears and the back of his neck burn, and he suddenly can’t look at Kageyama at all. _Interesting_.

“No,” Hinata snaps, but it’s tempered with embarrassment and not nearly as harsh as he would have liked it to be. “That’s so…” He doesn’t get to finish his thought as Yamaguchi and Tsukishima slide in.

“Oh, good,” Tsukishima notes. “You’ve finally stopped dancing around each other. It was getting fucking annoying.”

“What?” Kageyama and Hinata squeak in unison.

“Please,” Tsukishima snorts. “That whole fight you had? The past month or so all you two have been doing is sending longing looks back and forth when you think the other’s not looking, as if you’re hoping that you can make up. It’s really disgusting to watch two idiots pine for each other when it’s glaringly obvious you’re still so ass-backwards in love you might as well be wearing neon flashing signs.”

Hinata gapes. Kageyama’s eyes grow wide and panicked.

“K-Kei…” Yamaguchi stutters. “That’s a bit blunt, don’t you think?” To himself, he mutters, “Though he’s completely right.”

“I didn’t—” Hinata starts, but sputters and isn’t able to finish. Kageyama stares at Tsukishima, too paralyzed with fear to look at Hinata.

Tsukishima sighs. “Okay, well I suppose you’re still in denial. That’s fine—the moment you step into each other’s heads for real, it’ll all be apparent. You can’t hide anything in the Drift.” Hinata looks a little sheepish at the mention of Drifting. They’re quiet for a moment aside from thank-yous when Moniwa arrives with drinks.

“Um…sorry I never told any of you guys about the whole…you know.” Hinata makes a vague hand gesture with one hand and rubs at the condensation on the glass with his other, not meeting anyone’s eyes. “It must have come as a big surprise.”

“Sure was,” Yamaguchi whistles. “You really are certain about this, aren’t you, Shouyou?”

“Yeah.” Hinata looks at him and nods. “I’m committed to the operation.”

“It’s kind of cool, if you think about it,” Yamaguchi adds hesitantly, offering a small smile. “It’s almost like Drifting with Omega was a practice for the real thing, getting in a kaiju’s head. You’re really brave, Shouyou!”

Hinata laughs and rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “I guess it kind of will be similar. I can’t imagine it will be _that_ much worse than Drifting with Omega. But it’s not bravery or anything. I just want…I want to be like Small Giant and her team. A someone.” _And I want to be someone Kenma can rely on when they’re so lonely in their experience, but that’s not something I can say._

“So you’d do it for fame,” Tsukishima deduces dryly. “Nice to know the fate of the world rests on the shoulders of someone who’s thinking about stardom.”

“That’s uncalled for,” Kageyama protests. “That’s not the only reason he’s doing it.”

“Don’t defend his choice,” Tsukishima orders. “You don’t like it either. You know something is wrong.” The tension between the pilots rises. Tsukishima sighs. “Look. I’m not meaning to call you vain. But you should know that what Bokuto-san said is true—Kuroo-san and Kenma-san aren’t good people. They will sacrifice whoever they have to in order to protect civilization. Even if you think Kenma-san cares about you, they will _always_ choose the many over the few.”

“I know that,” Hinata says softly. “I don’t care.”

Tsukishima makes a noise of frustration. “I’m trying to look out for you, moro—”

“It’s not something that can be ignored, though,” Yamaguchi interrupts. “What they said…it makes sense. We’re just barely holding on. Imagine if the…Precursors? If the Precursors _really_ went all out on us. We wouldn’t stand a chance.” There’s a moment of solemn silence. “I agree with Hinata and Kuroo-san and Kozume-san,” Yamaguchi murmurs. “We can’t stay in this static state.”

No one says anything for a long while. Hinata gulps down his first beer with an edge of desperation that hints at a desire to be tipsy. Kageyama hardly touches his, and Tsukishima and Yamaguchi nurse theirs steadily. Tsukishima scowls hard at his drink, and it’s only after Hinata hails Moniwa for a second that he speaks up.

“The world is important to save,” Tsukishima starts, “but you don’t even know if this will work. You’re putting yourself in danger for no good reason—don’t interrupt me, you know I’m right. There is literally no proof that this is safe for a human to do. Although risks can lead to great gains, if you fail…” Tsukishima looks distinctly uncomfortable. “Well, just think about the consequences on the closest members of your team.”

“I already said that I would stand by him,” Kageyama says. “I don’t retract that statement now.”

“Not just you,” Tsukishima snaps, irritable. No, wait, there was something else—was Tsukishima _embarrassed_?

Hinata’s eyes widen. “You’re—you mean _you_ ,” he says in awe. “You and Yamaguchi.”

“It’s nothing that sentimental!” Tsukishima growls, but he’s fidgeting and tapping his fingers against his glass. “Our teams have worked together for over a year—it’s obvious there’d be a connection between us, no matter how much we don’t want it. Fucking—just think a little about what your death would do to our morale and dynamics.”

“Tsukishima,” Hinata says, jaw dropping. His voice gets tender. “You _do_ care!” Nearly knocking over their glasses, Hinata leans over the table with a laugh and wraps his arms around Tsukishima’s neck. Tsukishima swears and shoves at Hinata, but then Yamaguchi gets his arms around Tsukishima’s waist and rubs his cheek on Tsukishima’s shoulder.

“Aw, Kei!” He grins. “I keep telling everyone you’re a real sweetheart underneath it all, but no one ever believes me.”

“Kageyama, isn’t he precious?” Hinata calls, grinning back at his partner. Kageyama takes in a disgruntled Tsukishima trying his hardest to shove off the other two, face screwed into an unpleasant expression. He takes time to shoot Kageyama a fierce glare.

“Touch me and you’re dead,” he growls in warning, and Kageyama raises an eyebrow.

“Death by friendship speeches, or…?” Kageyama returns casually, and it’s so ridiculously out of character that Hinata lets Tsukishima go so he can fall on the table, cackling, Yamaguchi not far behind him, turning his head away and burying it in Tsukishima’s back, his body shaking.

They manage to calm down enough to finish their second round, chatting amiably about things that didn’t matter, like how Shimizu-san could still kick all their asses, even after how much they’d grown since they arrived on base, or how Tanaka’s attempt to grow out his hair looked terrible. Despite how much the other pilots teased Tsukishima, he had made an acute observation—in the same way that Kuroo, Kenma, Bokuto, and Akaashi had a certain kind of unity that extended beyond just romantic and queerplatonic relationships, the rookie pilots too had a bond between them born from struggle and hard-fought experience.

Yamaguchi runs his finger around the rim of his glass, staring at it with a distant look on his face. “Things are really going to change now, aren’t they?” He asks no one in particular, but grabs the attention of the other Rangers.

“Yes,” Kageyama agrees. “A big change is coming, whether we like it not.” He props his head up with a hand and looks out the window, wishing that the clear skies would stay.

 

\---------------------------------------------

 

“It’s a nice night to go for a walk on the beach,” Akaashi observes, padding slowly next to Kenma, hands behind their back. “Slight breeze, almost no waves—hard to believe that there’s supposed to be a front moving through any day now.” They shoot Kenma an amused smile. “And yet here we are, in the stuffy base while Koutarou and Tetsurou have fun.”

“Throwing around a football isn’t fun,” Kenma mutters. “Besides, I like the Jaegers.”

Akaashi looks around the Shatterdome, at the four magnificent golems of steel and titanium and hundred-ton hearts and miles of wires, towering over the two of them as they walked by in relative quiet, the hum of their engines even at rest comforting white noise. “I like them too,” Akaashi agrees softly, reserving a special look of fondness for Gamma Raptor. “Have you felt out Scrapper yet?”

“Mm.” Kenma gives a noncommittal answer. “I’m not as good at it as you are, Keiji,” they reply, giving their companion a pleading look.

Akaashi rolls their eyes fondly. “Yes, alright, I’ll look him over. But you have to learn how to do it yourself, you know. After this operation we’re sure to go our separate ways.”

“Ugh, but it’s _hard_ ,” Kenma protests. “I understand kaiju, not Jaegers,” they add under their breath, and Akaashi laughs lightly.

“What about Tetsurou? How is he at it?” Akaashi asks.

Kenma shrugs. “He’s getting better. He has a good feeling for the movements, but Scrapper puts a lot of stress on him. Neither of us are really _one_ with our Jaeger. We need him, though—we couldn’t pilot in any other Jaeger but Scrapper Nine.”

“I guess Tetsurou has been pretty busy,” Akaashi muses, pressing the call button for the elevator at Scrapper Nine’s station. “What with making the plans and keeping suspicion off you two, all with a smile on his face.”

“Kuro works harder than anyone else,” Kenma agrees. “No one notices, but…he’s definitely working himself to the bone. Azumane kind of reminds me of him.”

They step into the elevator and Akaashi nods. “Azumane endangers his health with how hard he works. I hope Tetsurou isn’t the same way.” Kenma doesn’t reply, and Akaashi’s expression gets sad. “Well,” they murmur, “it’s for the cause, after all.”

“I don’t really know what we’ll do after this is all over,” Kenma admits. “This is all we’ve been thinking of for the past few years, all we could talk about. Maybe we’ll take a vacation.”

The lift shudders to a halt at the top, door squeaking open. Akaashi steps out and raises an eyebrow at Kenma. “Maybe the war will be over after this.” They extend a hand and Kenma smiles at the optimism. _It was a hope, vain as it was. And it was hope that got all of them through this job_.

“How goes the search?” Akaashi asks, punching in the code to let them into Scrapper’s frame. “Have you found a Category Two that works yet?” Both of them step through the door, opening with a hiss and pad along the maintenance hallways to Scrapper’s core.

Kenma shakes their head. “A few have popped up, but they aren’t anywhere near Miyagi. And it’s probably a bad idea for me to poke at the link any more than I do now. I doubt the Precursors would send some harmless Category Two after _me_.”

Scrapper’s core look much like Strike’s as far as set-up and location of each part of the Jaeger is concerned. The only major difference is the fact that there is a second network of hallways designed for maintenance access if Scrapper was damaged and unable to revert from its four-legged mode. As a result of that mode, the individual parts of the Jaeger were also bolted down tighter than any other model, a feature that was mostly beneficial, until something needed to be replaced. Akaashi keys in a different code to wake up the engines from standby and leans against a railing while they whir to life around the two pilots.

“So what are we going to do when we actually _find_ a suitable candidate for this experiment?” Akaashi asks. “It’s not exactly going to sit still while Hinata and Tobio shove a spike in its skull.”

Kenma purses their lips. “That’s the most dangerous part,” they admit. “That’s why Kuro and I wanted four teams. We need to incapacitate the kaiju without killing it, and at the same time keep it from hurting Omega while the process occurs. Shouyou is going to be very vulnerable while he Drifts with it, and Omega will be completely unable to move or respond to attack during the Drifting.”

Akaashi grimaces. “Sounds like a recipe for disaster.”

Kenma can’t even argue.

Akaashi sighs and gestures with a nod towards Scrapper’s core. “C’mon. Let’s take a look.” Kenma follows behind a little dejectedly.

They don’t go anywhere near the core out of caution, but Kenma looks through the window in awe and Akaashi presses their ear to the glass, closing their eyes and trying to listen to the sounds of the core. They nod after a moment. “It’s not bad. A little strained and loud from stress, but that’s probably because you two push him hard. Needs a few tune-ups, but nothing major. If you could get the temperature down some too, that would be excellent.”

“Have you done this for all the other Jaegers, too?” Kenma asks in amazement.

“We take care of our own, obviously,” Akaashi replies. “Bokuto looked after Gold Strike with Tsukishima recently, and now we’re checking in on Scrapper Nine. Neither of us can get close to Tyrant Omega because of how protective Nishinoya and the Marshal are, but that’s probably for the best—he’s more organism than machine, anyway.”

“I hope that Omega will help Hinata,” Kenma admits quietly. “If he’s so present, he might be able to protect Hinata’s mind from _them_.”

Akaashi takes Kenma’s hand, intertwining their fingers and squeezing them gently. “I hope so, too,” they murmur. Kenma leans into their side, and Akaashi allows them to stand there for a few minutes in contemplative silence and prayers for the future.

 

\----------------------------

 

Two weeks later and Kenma isn’t even sure if they’ll make it to the date of the kaiju’s predicted attack. They haven’t even _found_ a suitable kaiju yet, but the conditions in Asahi’s lab were undesirable at best.

“Look, Ryuu, I know you’re an engineer and all, but trust me when I say that I know how to use this equipment better than you.”

“Really? Then why are you trying to plug the auxiliary cable into the main port?”

“Because the main cable is _wonky and corroded_ like I said before, if you’d actually _listened to me_ —”

“Oh, so now _I’m_ not listening to _you_? I told you, Yuu, the auxiliary cable can’t hold that much power; it’ll short out and blow the whole machine!”

“It’s worked fine for everything else. Next thing I know you’ll be telling me that pulling electricity from the base’s generators instead of the floor’s generators was a bad idea.”

“ _That **is** a bad idea!_ ”

“We’re going to die,” Kenma mutters to themself, shivering. “They’re going to blow up this base and we’re all going to die. It won’t even be a kaiju. We’re dead.”

Asahi shoots Kenma a sympathetic look from his desk. “Amazingly enough, you just get used to it. But if you’d like, as soon as you finish checking over that sheet, you can go. I’ll be able to do the rest with the equation you’ve given me.” Asahi tries his hardest to look cheerful, but Kenma can see the circles under his eyes and frowns.

“You stay up too late and worry Nishinoya; that’s why he’s so agitated,” Kenma mumbles. “He’d be a lot more careful if you took care of yourself and didn’t overwork so often.”

Asahi blinks in surprise. “Seriously?”

Before Kenma can reply, there’s a sharp crack of electricity from the other side of the bay, and the lights flicker. Both Kenma and Asahi flinch at the sound and glance behind them nervously. Tanaka and Noya are both staring at a thick cable, lying on the floor in a puddle of what is not clear enough to be water, but definitely clear enough to be that liquid Noya suspended kaiju parts in.

“Don’t touch it!” Tanaka snaps.

Noya throws up his hands. “Did it look like I was going to? I’m not that stupid, Ryuu!”

Tanaka gives him a look that tells the mathematician and pilot Noya was responsible for the accident. “It would be better for everyone’s health if he was less careless,” Kenma grumbles, turning back to his sheet with renewed vigor. Asahi rubs the back of his neck as he looks over his partner, who was in about as bad shape as Asahi was. Messy hair not kept in the obsessive stylized state Noya always insisted on keeping it as, scratchy stubble on his chin and jaw, bloodshot eyes…yeah, okay, so Asahi saw Kenma’s point.

It wasn’t like the machine was anything essential to the operation. The whole purpose of putting it together was to see if Noya could make a neural bridge between ‘Kyouken’—the piece of a kaiju brain that still functioned—and Hinata. Noya’s idea was that if Hinata practiced Drifting with a kaiju just a little bit, he might be able to handle it better when he tried the primary brain of a living kaiju.

A sweet thought, but Kenma knew from his own experience that a tiny chunk of the whole couldn’t prepare Hinata for the painful onslaught of thousands and thousands of minds entering his own, piercing his subconscious and then turning hostile because he was _not one of them, not one of them, **spy**_ —

Well. It was the thought that counted.

Not that Noya had much success in even crafting the machine when he was so exhausted from worrying about Asahi and worrying about the operation and worrying over the machine. Too much worry and coffee and not enough sleep and water, if anyone asked Kenma (no one did, but they were grateful for that). The bottom line was that Noya was _fretting_ , and he would continue to fret until he had a project to work on that he could throw himself into completely.

“Yo, what’s that piece of shit? Don’t tell me you’ve seriously hit a road block in a project, Yuu.”

_Yaku always did have impeccable timing_ , Kenma thinks.

Noya’s head whips around while the other three look up more slowly. There, leaning against the doorway with a coat thrown over his shoulder and a shit-eating grin on his face, Yaku slouched. But the causal posture did nothing to hide the way his eyes glowed upon seeing Noya, the way he smiled so hard it had to hurt.

“ _Mori!_ ” Noya shouts, dropping the wrench in his hands and racing over to his old friend, throwing his arms around Yaku’s neck and legs around his waist, tackling Yaku hard enough to send them both hurtling to the floor. They both end up in a pile giggling and grinning the maniacal smiles of mad scientists. “When did you get here?”

“Just now,” Yaku laughs. “We got in through the back.” Noya makes a muffled sound of joy and buries his face in Yaku’s shoulder.

“Ah, well,” Asahi huffs happily. “He’ll be okay now. There’s no way Morisuke won’t take care of him.”

“You still better look after yourself,” Kenma says sharply. “There’s no way I can find this kaiju on my own.” Asahi is touched by the insistence in Kenma’s voice, but there’s an odd nervousness in the way Kenma’s eyes dart around the room and a tightly wound tension in his shoulders.

_But what was_ —

“ _Kenma-san!_ ” Asahi nearly falls out of his chair as a _giant_ hurtles through the doorway to their science bay, eyes fixed on Kenma. He’s well over six feet tall, lanky and thin, with a shock of grey hair and piercing green eyes fixated on his prize the way a cat might stare down a bird.

“ _Shit_ ,” Kenma hisses, and for a second time Asahi nearly falls out of his chair, hearing Kenma curse.

The giant throws himself over Kenma, managing to cover almost the entirety of the pilot despite the fact that Kenma was in no way small. The giant simply _dwarfed_ Kenma under the length of his limbs and the warmth of his affection, rubbing his cheek against Kenma’s head happily. “I missed you so much, Kenma-san! None of the other pilots in Tokyo are as fun to visit as you and Kuroo-san are!” He looks up suddenly, sharp eyes darting around the room with a hungry edge that could cut. “Where is _he_?”

“Get off me, Lev,” Kenma grumbles, attempting to worm his way out of Lev’s hold. Asahi has to blink at the funny way Kenma pronounces the boy’s name—clearly it wasn’t Japanese in origin. “Scrapper is in the Shatterdome with the rest of the Jaegers. You’ll be excited—that weird one is also there.”

Lev releases Kenma to clap his hands together excitedly. “Seriously? The one that looks like a kaiju?”

“Yes,” Kenma says. “And in fact, his creator is the one who tackled Yaku.”

Lev turns around to lay eyes on Noya, now helping Yaku to his feet and chatting amiably. Lev tilts his head to the side. Loudly, he says, “Wow. The weird Jaeger’s creator sure is tiny. Even tinier than Yaku-san!” Turning back around to Kenma, he frowns. “Why are all the genius scientists such _shrimps_?”

“Guess that means since you’re so damn tall and skinny you’ll never be a genius,” Yaku calls across the bay, glaring holes into Lev’s back. “Get over here and introduce yourself, beanpole!” His gaze softens considerably when he meets Kenma’s eyes. “I’m sorry that he’s such a nuisance, Kenma. I swear I’m trying to train him.”

“Yaku-sannnnn,” Lev whines, but lopes back to his superior’s side. Yaku jabs him in the side and he yelps.

“Anyway,” Noya says brightly, gesturing to the bay. “This is my lab! It’s been a bit upgraded since you were last here.”

“Bigger space, but less high-class,” Yaku observes. Noya pouts and he grins. “Just ribbing you. It’s pretty damn big and high-tech for a secondary base. Must have been a pain getting Marshal Ukai to allocate enough of the budget to your lab to get all this stuff.”

“Well, that’s most likely due to Asahi, if I’m completely honest,” Noya admits. “Helps to have the best living mathematician as a lab buddy.” Noya grins at Asahi’s embarrassment.

“I’m Azumane Asahi,” Asahi introduces himself, walking over. “I’m sorry; I don’t believe we formally met when you were here last.”

“Yaku Morisuke,” Yaku returns with a nod. “It’s a pleasure. Good to see you as well, Tanaka!” He calls, and Tanaka waves a wrench in greeting.

“Don’t mind me, Yaku!” He calls back. “Just putting this mess Yuu made back together.”

“I’d also like to introduce my intern, Haiba Lev,” Yaku says, patting Lev on the arm. “He’s a real pain with no filter on his mouth, but he’s the damn smartest kid in the Eastern Hemisphere and I’m happy to have him as an assistant.”

“Nice to meet you!” Lev greets Asahi cheerfully, bowing shallowly. “I’m Lev, and my goal is to become a _way_ better scientist than you or Yaku-san or Noya-san will ever be!”

_He wasn’t lying about the no-filter_ , Asahi thinks, but he’s not offended. “We could use some of that self-confidence around here,” he says. “What we’re trying to do, no one on this earth has ever done, so we need all the help we can get.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” Lev chirps. “I was mentioned in Yaku-san and Noya-san’s publication on nerve suits, but this is the first time I’m going to get to be a co-author. I promise to work my very hardest!”

_He’s a good kid,_ Asahi concludes, and a glance at Noya confirms his thoughts. _Just…a little excitable. No wonder Kenma’s eager to pass him off on someone else_.

“Well!” Yaku claps his hands together. “Now that introductions are done, I’d like to jump straight to work.”

“Oh thank _god_ ,” Tanaka groans. “We can put this damned project to rest. Kyouken is staring at me, I swear…”

“Did you bring _it_?” Noya asks, eyes sparkling. Yaku puts his hands on his hips.

“Of course! I’ve got Tetsurou and Bokuto dragging the neural spike in right now—secretively, of course. This is still all on the down-low.”

Noya actually look like he might be in _tears_. “It’s so good to have someone reliable around again, Mori…” he wails.

“Oi, is that an implication that I’m not reliable?” Tanaka calls again. “Come over here and say that to my face, Yuu!” Yaku laughs.

“I’m glad this is such a lively place,” he says. “Tokyo has its perks and the best tech in Japan, but it’s too stiff. How am I supposed to think creatively and outside the box with limitations all over the place? And _curfew_? God, it’s like humanity isn’t more important than beauty sleep.”

“Don’t be expecting very much of that,” Noya says on a more serious note. “We have to update the Jaegers, both nerve suit sets, recalibrate _everything_ , and then design and create a piece of technology that has never been conceptualized by mankind, all before Asahi and Kozume find us a kaiju.”

“Sounds like we have our work cut out for us,” Lev says thoughtfully. “When do we begin?”

Yaku gives Lev a fond look. “Couldn’t have put it better myself, beanpole. I want you to look over the nerve suits and assess functionality and some of our proposed upgrades—Yuu, you got any? …Okay, and also Yuu’s potential upgrades. Yuu, Tanaka, and I will look over the Jaegers.”

Yaku nods politely at Asahi. “Do you mind if we borrow Kenma to round up the boys to test their suits?”

“Not at all,” Asahi replies. “They were just about to head out anyway.”

Kenma nods. “I don’t mind. I told Kuro already,” they say, tapping their temple. Yaku looks genuinely pleased to see Kenma.

“It’s really, really good to see you again, Kenma,” Yaku says gently. “You’re the single pilot I’ve met who hasn’t driven me up the wall. You better let me fuss over you some.”

Kenma returns the smile. “If you insist, Yaku-san.”

If the buzz and hype of energy up to that point had been centered around the pilots, the arrival of the two scientists definitely shifted the balance of power back to the scientists. All the new and exciting things were happening in the K-Science bay or in the Shatterdome. Pilot training regimens were shelved if they interfered with a test Noya wanted to run on their health. A Ranger might even have been pulled from a meeting with the Marshal if Yaku or Lev needed them. Kenma might as well have changed his occupation from ‘Jaeger pilot’ to ‘mathematician’s assistant’ with how much time he spent in Asahi’s lab.

In the Shatterdome, Noya or Yaku were always present. While regular touch-ups usually just involved the oversight of the head mechanic, upgrades required the presence of the head mechanic _and_ a scientist who would be helping to design new parts. In and out, in and out—the team traced every hallway, examined every set of engines and wires that made each Jaeger run in order to maximize efficiency and precision in preparation for the battle. Tanaka caved and finally brought a sleeping bag into the Shatterdome, resigned to the fact that he would never be able to leave.

Saeko, too, often found herself hailed to the Shatterdome to examine simulations of Conn-Pod upgrades designed to make the connection faster and smoother. Although hesitant at first in an area quite obviously not her field, she eventually started pitching her own idea which were then modified and absorbed into the machine that was the twin brain of Yaku and Noya.

Asahi, usually the one who needed to be chased to bed, found himself in charge of making sure that Yaku and Noya actually _did_ sleep at least three hours a night, despite their protests that they were fine. The threat of sleeping pills secretively dropped in coffee to force a long afternoon nap was constantly dangling over their heads should they not comply with Asahi’s orders. Asahi didn’t have much trouble getting Noya to sleep, curling around him and using the warmth and safety of their bed to lull him to sleep, a blissful smile on his face now that he was _working_.

(Lev, on the other hand, had trouble convincing Yaku to go to bed, and the promise of snuggles was not nearly as welcome. Asahi found it very interesting that Lev eagerly jumped at the chance to wrap his gangly limbs around Yaku and snuffle gently in his hair. He found it even more interesting that despite his protests, Yaku looked most at peace wrapped in Lev’s arms or spooning him in protest of his height, head pressed tightly against Lev’s back and a thoughtfully distant look in his eyes.)

If there had been any doubt that Lev wasn’t up to par with the other scientists, that doubt was quickly erased given how professionally Lev handled the nerve suit situation. A key mind behind their creation, Lev skillfully navigated the intricacies of the suit, talking with technicians to see if there was ever any trouble putting on the suits and examining their material thoroughly under a microscope. Despite the fact that he often seemed childishly excited by science, Kenma, and Yaku, when it came down to the hard science, he took on a mood shift that gave Asahi whiplash to witness.

When interviewing pilots and techs about the suits, the jovial atmosphere around Lev disappeared, replaced by staunch but not cold professionalism. His questions were easy to understand even for non-scientists and highly specific. He was patient when techs took a while to recall information and prepared with follow-up questions if one of the pilots gave him a noncommittal answer. He appeared less and less like an intern and more and more like a full-fledged scientist like Yaku and Noya.

Asahi caught him once, muttering to himself and chewing on the end of his pen, unaware of the world around but for a scrap of fabric under the lens of Noya’s most powerful light microscope. He rubbed at his eyes tiredly, and the slump in his shoulders broke Asahi’s heart, just a little. Before he could say anything though, Yaku strode in, way past his assigned bedtime that night. He didn’t look angry or annoyed, just worried.

“Hey,” he said so softly Asahi felt like he was intruding on something deeply personal. “It’s pretty late, Lev. Why don’t you come to bed?”

Lev’s eyes strayed back to the microscope. “Yaku-san…I’m so close though, I swear. I just can’t figure out this one protein, but I _know_ what it is, I just can’t—” His shoulders slump farther. “You and Noya-san…you guys have actually started designing parts, but I can’t get this one single thing right. I can’t even stay up late! I get so tired…”

“Let me see what you’ve got so far,” Yaku says, holding a hand out. Lev doesn’t even hesitate, just hands the file folder over and chews on his pen some more, somehow looking smaller than Yaku in that moment.

Yaku reads over the file with a poker face that gives nothing away. When he reaches the end of the summarized findings, he lets out a low whistle. “That’s a hell of a lot of info. You just need that one protein and you’ll be able to start putting designs together, huh? Not that far behind us after all.”

Lev looks up, looks hopeful. Yaku’s smile is pure and proud and warm. “Want me to let you in on a little secret?” He asks, raising an eyebrow. Lev nods, bewildered.

Yaku grins. “The reason me and Yuu are so short is because we never sleep. See, gravity compressed our spines during our formative years when we were working on our theses, and as a result, we’re pretty damn small.”

Lev sighs, looking unimpressed. “Yaku-san, I know that’s not true. Besides the fact that you and Noya-san would have completed most of your growth prior to university—even given your accelerated track—height is a mixture of genes, diet, environment, and other factors. Just because you stood or sat up a lot doesn’t mean you’re going to be short.”

Yaku’s smile widens. “Too damn smart for your own good, that’s what you are. If you were shorter, I’d give you a noogie for sure. Come on, you giant, walking noodle—you’re still young. You need your sleep, unlike us grumpy old men.”

Asahi smiled for the rest of the night as echoes of “But Yaku-san, you’re not even ten years older than me yet” rang back down the hallway and into his bay.

But it wasn’t just the nerve suits and Lev’s intelligence that made him stand out to the other members of the base—it was his interesting choice of relationships.

Excluding the questionably taboo crush Lev undoubtedly had on Yaku, he also chose to make close acquaintances with Kenma—someone who resisted his advances of friendship whole-heartedly—and Hinata. Asahi isn’t sure if he’s surprised or not that Lev gravitated towards the shortest member of the kaiju response team besides the girls and Noya.

Either way, Lev had an unfortunate affinity for setting off short people, as his first reaction upon seeing Hinata dressed in his nerve suit was to make an _ah_ of understanding and say “Oh! So that’s why we needed such a tiny design for a nerve suit!”

Predictably, Hinata didn’t take the comment well, bristling and snarling in a surprised Lev’s face. But also predictably, once they found common ground, the animosity between them dissolved and they quickly took to comparing heroes (Hinata’s being the team of Small Giant and Lev’s being Noya and Yaku). But even more interesting was that both Hinata and Lev were ‘prodigies’ in their respective fields seeking to overcome their heroes and be the absolute best. Hinata might not have known a lick about science or Lev about the Ghost Drift, but they were able to communicate due to sheer enthusiasm.

Hinata was the only one Lev completely dropped his professionalism around. Even when taking care of Kenma’s suit, Lev only regressed to cheerful politeness, but with Hinata he joked and messed around and ultimately depressurized. As a result, Hinata didn’t feel as inclined to be professional back at him, and complained about how the suit fit or about abnormalities that actually helped Lev to make changes that would improve Hinata’s performance in Omega. Besides, Lev was thrilled to talk to one of the pilots of ‘the weird Jaeger,’ and Hinata was always happy to boast about how great Omega was.

The symbiotic relationship between Miyagi and Tokyo seemed to be a pattern. Asahi and Kenma proved that they were incredibly comfortable being paired together to search for the kaiju, as they both preferred the quiet and being left alone. They also like the same type of coffee, which meant that Kenma clung to Asahi like a lifeline for caffeine, begging to be set free from the ‘nasty black tar’ that Kuroo liked to drink.

Yaku and Noya, too, while powerful on their own, became exponentially more productive when put together. They worked the techs and mechanics to the point of exhaustion with their pace, but after only a week, they had fully examined all four Jaegers and were ready to jump to designing custom parts and assessing their reports. Tanaka and his crew had only the weekend to recover (mostly through sleeping) before Yaku and Noya sent out a notice with a report of issues that needed to be fixed. It was about that time when Lev finished examining the suits as well.

Individually, the two teams came up with Jaeger and suit designs, Lev with only a little assistance from Yaku and full approval from both the senior scientists. With designs in place, they sent them away to the industrial district of Japan under urgent orders from Marshal Ukai and took to tackling the hardest element of the plan—coming up with equipment that would allow Hinata to Drift with a kaiju without dying.

And in speeding through the easier elements, Yaku and Noya encountered their first speedbump.

“I don’t get it,” Yaku says in disbelief. “There is _no way_ we can’t find a way to fit this in the Conn-Pod. It’s a glorified neural bridge, for Christ’s sake!”

Noya groans and stares at the pile of paper balls, wadded up with every failed drawing. “Maybe in five years when our tech gets smaller, we could have done it,” Noya moans. “But what we’re trying to do in such a short period of time requires a ton of heavy equipment; there’s no getting around it.”

“Can we enlarge the Conn-Pod?” Yaku asks, although he already knows the answer.

“No,” Noya replies glumly. “If it was an external connection, maybe. But everything in Omega is internal because of his synthetic muscle and nerves.”

“This is miserable,” Yaku sighs.

Lev walks in, carrying a bag of donuts. He shoves one in his mouth before speaking. “Hi Yaku-san, Noya-san.”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, it’s disgusting,” Yaku grumbles. “Also, you have powder all around your mouth.”

Lev pays Yaku’s snappiness no mind, but eyes the pile of scrapped designs with interest. “Are you guys having trouble?” He asks, swallowing.

“The _trouble_ is that we’re trying to put a three-tier Drifting system—mind you, that has _never_ been created before—into a tiny, cramped space that cannot be modified. It’s physically impossible,” Noya sighs.

“Let me see your latest design,” Lev says, holding a powder-covered hand out. Yaku makes a face, but Noya just hands it over.

“We’re about to scrap that one, too,” Noya explains tiredly.

Lev eats another donut and makes a thoughtful noise. “Why the hell are you using a horizontal model?”

“The Conn-Pod of Tyrant Omega is shorter than traditional designs,” Yaku says. “A vertical model is preferable, of course, but there’s just not enough vertical space.”

“Well I knew _that_ ,” Lev sighs. “I’m just wondering why you’re shoving it in the back with all the other modems and hard drives that are _vertical_ models. A horizontal model is obviously not going to fit.”

“Well then, what’s your grand idea, boy genius?” Yaku snaps, this time with annoyance.

“What’s wrong with putting it up front?” Lev asks. “There’s a space that would fit a vertical model perfectly between the two pilots.”

“Yeah, but they need that to—” Noya pauses. What _did_ they need that space for? If they put the machine there, the pilots wouldn’t be able to see each other, but was that really necessary for piloting?

“Oh my god,” Yaku says slowly, coming to the same realization as Noya. “ _Oh my god_.”

“I’m sketching—Mori, go find the blueprints, they’re in that drawer—oh my god, this might actually _work_ ,” Noya says excitedly.

Yaku sits straight up, looks Lev in the eyes, then grabs his face and pulls him down so that he can kiss him hard, just once, pulling away and almost laughing with joy. “Lev, you are a _genius_.” Lev just kind of nods distractedly because Yaku has a little bit of powdered donut on his lip and _Yaku-san kissed me he kissed me oh my god he actually_ —

(Bokuto says it best, later on, after Yaku and Noya hail him and Kuroo, and in a flurry of excited words order them on errands to find the Marshal and Tanaka and Saeko and Kageyama and Hinata just in case. They send the two of them to the post and to the mechanics and with packages or papers, and by the end of it all Kuroo and Bokuto just collapse on Kuroo’s couch, Kuroo flopped on Bokuto’s stomach.

“They really just ran us around like _dogs_ ,” Kuroo says in disbelief. “Us. You know, star pilots and heroes of the earth? Reduced to _messenger boys_.”

Bokuto grins then, fluffing Kuroo’s hair fondly, while Kuroo digs his chin into Bokuto’s chest at the indignity. Bokuto laughs. “Okay, yeah, so it’s a little degrading—”

“I _came up_ with this plan,” Kuroo grumbles once more, just to be a little shit.

Bokuto shushes him with a finger to his lips. “Still, it’s just a little bit exciting, don’t you think? Feels like something really big is about to happen.” Kuroo’s eyes sparkle in agreement, the smile quirking at the edge of his mouth the only other tell of how pleased he is. But then he nibbles the tip of Bokuto’s finger, and they forget about serious business pretty quickly.

_‘Something big’s about to happen_ ,’ Kuroo thinks. _Yes, that sounds about right. And for the first time, I think we might actually be able to win this war._ )

 

\----------------------------------

 

Hinata finds, that as with all things from Tokyo, the scientists aren’t anything like he expects.

He’s sitting on the top of a desk on Noya’s side of the science bay, watching in mild amusement as Yaku manages Kuroo and Kenma before they go on a test run with the upgrades to their nerve suits and Jaeger. Yaku reminds Hinata a bit of Koushi in that his care for his pilots is so abundantly clear and always at the forefront of his actions. He dotes on Kenma constantly, making sure that they’re getting enough to eat and enough sleep and ensuring that Lev and Kuroo don’t bother them too much. It’s not that they’re particularly close—on the contrary, Kenma seems to have abundant respect for Yaku.

On the flip side, however, Yaku is rough with Lev and Kuroo, demanding work from both of them, but the fact that they comply with his wishes says something about their respect for him, too. Yaku expects the highest quality of work from Lev and cooperation and professionalism from Kuroo, but under that harshness, there’s a layer of care embedded into his personality. When they truly do a good job, he makes sure to lay on the praise, and when nothing serious is going on, he’s joking and playful with them.

It appears obvious to Hinata that Yaku is the caretaker of the Tokyo base.

“Yaku-san is really something, isn’t he?” Hinata says to Lev, who hops up on the desk next to Hinata to observe the proceedings of Yaku tugging and prodding at Kuroo and Kenma’s suit with a look of pure concentration on his face.

“Yeah, he’s a really good disciplinarian,” Lev scowls, rubbing his side sorely where Yaku had jabbed him.

“It’s funny,” Hinata says. “Daichi-san and Suga-san were really the ones who looked after the pilots, but your scientist is the one who cares for them.”

Lev snorts. “Well, yeah, but that’s only ‘cause the rest of the pilots in Tokyo are power-hungry or hate Kuroo-san and Kenma-san. The only one who could keep the peace is Yaku-san. On top of doing all his work, he’s also always there for the pilots.” Lev gives Hinata a half-smile. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to surpass him in that capacity.”

Hinata watches as Kuroo dodges Yaku’s hand mischievously and Yaku smacks him on the head with his clipboard. But there’s a gentleness to the blow and a returning playfulness in Yaku’s eyes that tells Hinata there isn’t even a trace of animosity between scientist and pilots. “They really love each other, don’t they?” He asks softly.

Lev nods. “Yup. Tokyo is way more cohesive than Miyagi overall. Even if our pilots don’t always get along, we’ve never had any incidents of Drift failing between established pilots or conflict between teams during a drop. That’s because Yaku runs us on a strict no in-fighting policy and reports straight to Marshal Nekomata if he sees it. We’re more disciplined than you are, have more experience than you, and have better resources. Most importantly, we’re connected across all our departments. From the scientists to the techs to the pilots—there’s a connection and respect for each other that’s missing from Miyagi.”

Hinata blinks.

Lev takes that to mean he’s upset. “Don’t worry too much about it though—it’s expected. You were probably on your way to becoming a primary base like us when Sawamura-san and Sugawara-san were around, but now on top of little experience, you have no leadership. Your leadership is borrowed from Tokyo’s senior pilots and the wanderers. It’s why we’re stronger.”

“So what you’re telling me,” Hinata starts slowly. “Is that if we had a single, strong pair who took over leadership, we would be great?”

“Mm…more or less,” Lev shrugs. “You’d also have to connect more with your helpers—you know, the people behind the scenes? But yeah, that’s a good place to start. Why?”

“I want to become the best pilot on this base. And in the world. And in history,” Hinata says determinedly. “But I need to start somewhere.”

Before Lev can point out that no one would follow an experience-poor rookie who hasn’t proved himself, and besides, shouldn’t Hinata be worried about his next mission rather than world domination? there's a wild yell from the other side of the lab. Everyone jumps.

Asahi _does_ tumble from his chair and hit the floor, but he’s back on his feet in a heartbeat, waving a printout in Kenma’s direction. “Kenma!” He shouts. “Kenma, _this is the one!_ ”

Kenma snatches the paper from his hand and skims it briefly, but they’re nodding before they even finish reading. “Yes,” they agree. “Yes, this _is_ the one.”

“How soon?” Yaku asks, turning back to Kuroo’s nerve suit with renewed urgency.

“Three weeks,” Kenma replies softly, and Yaku swears loudly.

“Fuck, that’s cutting it _dangerously_ close,” he growls. “We have most of the Drifting apparatus constructed, but there are a few essential parts that we haven’t designed or produced. Where the hell is Yuu?”

“I just contacted him,” Asahi says. “He’s on his way as fast as possible.”

Lev is at Yaku’s side in a heartbeat. “What do you need me to do?” He asks.

“Yuu and I are doing the final, physical connections. You take care of the bindings and ventilation,” Yaku orders without looking up. “Fuck, fuck, _fuck_.”

He only looks up once more, and that’s to fix his eyes on the nearest makeshift busboy—Hinata. “You. Go tell the Marshal about what’s going on. We need to kick into high-speed preparations _stat_.”

 

\----------------------------------

 

The energy at the base takes on a frenzied edge once the so-called ‘perfect kaiju’ is located. It’s a bit strange for those not in on the classified plan—the pilots and scientists are even more on edge than when a Category Four is on-schedule to roll around or when an anomaly shows up out of the blue. But for those in the know, the rush is chaos and hell.

Noya, Yaku, and Lev don’t sleep. They can’t afford any more than the hour nap here or there, but even then, the waste of time leaves them anxious and ill-rested when they try. Asahi, too, doesn’t sleep much with all the movement and _thinking_ going on in his lab keeping him up. He makes himself useful through energy drink and coffee runs and delivering updates to the Marshal and pilots while the scientists lock themselves away from any and all distractions.

They get the final designs sent out in five days—record-breaking speed. Marshal Ukai includes a classified letter explaining the urgency of the parts and the operation being carried out, and the parts are fully manufactured and sent back in another five days. Assembly and attachment of the Drifting apparatus begins the same day.

Amongst the frenzy to get everything finished and tested before the deadline, the pilots end up just as stressed as the scientists. Sleeping doesn’t come easy even to Tsukishima ad Yamaguchi, the least involved in the project. Nightmares of death and mutilation frequently haunt their dreams, and it’s not strange to see a haggard Ranger or two wandering the halls in the dead of night.

But despite the craze, a single pilot manages to stay calm and composed, tortured by nightmares but never a slave to them, restless but productive. Focused.

Somewhere in the middle of the five day struggle to get the Drifting equipment plans sent away for production, Hinata approaches Yaku and Noya when they are alone, Lev off on a mission to drag Tanaka back to the bay. He’s quiet in his approach, none of the wild energy and rush that the scientists and most everyone at the base had come to associate him with. He’s delicate with his steps and purposeful in his stance when he approaches them, and it’s then that Noya truly feels for the first time that something in this plan is going to go wrong.

“Hinata?” He asks, stopping what he’s doing, much to Yaku’s confusion. “What‘s wrong?”

“I have a request to make, regarding the project you’re working on,” Hinata announces, uncharacteristically polite.

“Um…yeah, of course, we’ll hear you out,” Noya says. Yaku looks up.

“The focus of the kaiju I’m going to Drift with,” Hinata says, unsmiling. “I want it to be completely focused on me, one hundred percent.”

“Focused?” Noya sounds confused.

“Yes,” Hinata says. “I don’t want the kaiju to be in anyone’s mind but my own—not Kageyama’s, and not Omega’s. They can share the weight of the Drift, but I don’t ever want the Precursors to know they exist.”

Noya scratches the back of his neck. “I see where you’re coming from, but I just don’t know if we can do that. I don’t have any idea how to divvy up something like that.” Noya can’t meet Hinata’s eyes, but it doesn’t matter that he’s clearly hiding something—Hinata has already noticed the way Yaku hasn’t said a word and gone quietly back to work.

“He can,” Hinata states. “Yaku-san did it for Kuroo-san and Kenma. He can do it for me, too.”

“He _can’t_ , Hinata,” Noya sighs. “That was the foreign scientists who did all of that.”

“Yes, he can,” Hinata says a little firmer. “Kenma told me.”

_Well,_ Noya thinks, _now we’re fucked_.

Yaku exhales softly. “Kenma is right. Yes, I know how to do it, but you must know that it comes at a price and a much greater risk, which is why I didn’t even consider doing it. You know that black hole in Kenma’s mind?” Hinata does, but he looks shocked that _Yaku_ knew about it. “That’s a side effect of bearing their gaze by yourself. Yours will be much larger, possibly omnipresent. You might always hear them or see them or feel them. If you become a danger because of that hole, and the Marshal may decide to terminate you.”

“I can accept those risks,” Hinata says.

“No, dammit, Hinata! You can’t!” Noya snarls. “Are you even listening to Mori? You will go _crazy_ from them. Why the hell do you even want to do this?”

“This is _my_ mission,” Hinata snarls back. “I took this on because _I_ was willing to do it. I’m not going to scar Kageyama with an experience he never asked for or wanted. I’m not going to risk damaging Omega’s mind when he’s so incredibly unique and powerful. Don’t you get it? This _is_ the way with least risks.”

_I am the one who brought Kageyama this suffering. I’m the one making him worry. I want to become stronger, yes…but never at his expense. When we’ve just reached happiness, I refuse to take that away from him. He will not become a victim of my selfishness and Kuroo-san and Kenma’s deception._

“Please,” Hinata whispers. “Please, can you this for me, just once?”

Noya doesn’t know what exactly it is that gets him to agree. Maybe it was how sincere Hinata was from the very beginning, approaching them so out of character, with such weight to his words and his stance. Maybe it’s the intensity of his desire to protect the person and entity closest to him. Maybe it was that look of deep sadness and acceptance that Noya had seen back at the meeting when Hinata announced that he volunteered, so slight that one could miss it, just the tiniest sunshower that foretold of a monsoon to come.

 

\-------------------------------------------

 

And then, the night before the predicted attack. Thanks to Kenma’s insight and Asahi’s equation, the prediction only varied by an hour at most, and the pilots could rest easy knowing there wouldn’t be an attack until tomorrow evening.

Yeah, right.

Tsukishima doesn’t think he’s ever been as tightly wound as he is now, hurrying past the Shatterdome with a sense of urgency. In the hangar, Yaku and Noya are running last minute tests of Omega’s new equipment. And in his animal-like claws, the neural spike sits ominously, like a dagger in the hands of some clumsy, primitive being. It makes Tsukishima feel ill just thinking about it.

“He’s an idiot,” Tsukishima says softly.

At his side and puffing to keep up, Yamaguchi rolls his eyes. “That again? Kei, it’ll be okay, really.”

Tsukishima swears that just for a moment he can hear the sounds of a drill or blowtorch fusing the unwieldy and tall apparatus to Omega’s insides, weighing him down and dragging him to the bottom of the ocean. Tsukishima had seen it only once, black as ink with flickering lights running along its sides, whirring steadily and waiting to bring Hinata to his doom.

“I can _literally_ hear you being a drama queen about all this,” Yamaguchi sighs, stopping Tsukishima before he walks past their room because he’s too deep in thought. “You’re poetic as hell in your misery, but you project an awful lot when you’re anxious.”

Tsukishima is embarrassed to find their connection buzzing and alive between them, feeding Yamaguchi his worried thoughts and feeding him gentle chastisement and Yamaguchi’s own nervousness. “Do you want to talk about it?” Yamaguchi asks, offering Tsukishima a supportive smile. “It’d be bad to keep it all inside.”

“It’s bad luck to talk about an operation the night before it goes down,” Tsukishima returns automatically, but he follows Yamaguchi into their quarters and then their bedroom without bothering to brush his teeth.

Yamaguchi tosses an amused look behind him. “Tsukishima Kei? Superstitious? Now I’ve really heard it all.”

Tsukishima flushes despite himself. “Shut it, you,” he grumbles, kicking off his shoes and practically falling into bed. A moment later, Yamaguchi joins him, snuggling up close. Tsukishima huffs gently and pulls Yamaguchi into his arms, looping them around Yamaguchi’s waist. He pulls Yamaguchi extra close to him, enough to tuck his head over Yamaguchi’s shoulder and for Yamaguchi to giggle at the feeling of breath tickling his neck.

“Honestly, Kei. It’s going to be okay,” Yamaguchi assures him, still feeling Tsukishima’s anxiety in his unusual neediness physically. “Our teams are the best of the best. We’ve _slain_ kaiju ever since Bokuto-san and Akaashi arrived and pulled our team together. You heard the plan—all we have to do is incapacitate the kaiju, no big deal.”

“Tyrant Omega will be _helpless_ ,” Tsukishima argues. “He won’t be able to move _at all_ while Hinata is Drifting with the kaiju.” Tsukishima doesn’t say it out loud, but they still remember it, the too-still frame of Apocalypto Alpha and the kaiju circling her, taunting. A Jaeger that couldn’t move was a dead Jaeger.

“It won’t be like before,” Yamaguchi says quietly. “For one thing, we have experienced teams instead of two rookie teams dragging the main down. _And_ we have four this time, not three.”

“But only three can—”

“Hinata is strong,” Yamaguchi interrupts. “Like, really strong. I’ve talked to him a lot, you know? He’s not going to crumple.”

“Is he stronger than a kaiju?” Tsukishima asks softly.

Yamaguchi hums, giving the rhetorical question actual thought. He thinks of Hinata’s battle to get to be a pilot, fighting for what he wants against every single barrier, be it physical, mental, or Kageyama. He overcame a sync score that would have dropped him from the program. He overpowered the best cadet at the base and managed to Drift with him despite their obvious differences. He survived two separate fights with his partner that could have torn their connection apart. He Drifted in the bastard child of a kaiju and Jaeger and _excelled_. He excelled enough to become the stronger half of their duo, arguably the strongest of the rookies. And despite what had happened to their senpai and the horrors Kenma had shown him, Hinata was alive and kicking, still just as wild and full of energy and optimistic as ever.

“Yeah,” Yamaguchi says. “I think he is.”

“You have too much faith in our companions,” Tsukishima grumbles, but Yamaguchi can tell he’s been warmed and comforted just a little, remembering that after all Hinata had been through, a kaiju was just a damn kaiju. It didn’t _deserve_ to win in a battle of the minds like Hinata did.

“And _you’re_ a rotten cynic,” Yamaguchi says cheerfully, flicking Tsukishima’s nose. Tsukishima growls at the indignity, but Yamaguchi just laughs, flipping around to face him. They hold each other’s gaze for a moment, and then Tsukishima leans in to kiss Yamaguchi gently.

“Thank you, Tadashi,” he murmurs when he pulls away just far enough to rest their foreheads together. “Somehow, you never tire of dealing with me.”

“It’s a tough job, but someone has to do it,” Yamaguchi says with a grin, and kisses Tsukishima again, giving him playful pecks on his cheeks and nose and forehead. Across the Drift, his presence warms and mingles with Tsukishima’s to form a blanket of security around them. Yamaguchi’s love is stronger than Tsukishima’s fear, and he lets it go, just for a moment, to bask in the glory of his partner and remember that together, they can do anything.

 

\---------------------------------

 

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” Kageyama says through a mouthful of toothpaste, eyeing Hinata in the mirror next to him. Hinata rolls his eyes theatrically and spits out his mouthwash.

“Why do people keep _saying_ that?” He grumbles, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. “I’m not going to change my mind. Almost _everyone_ has said the same thing, even Kenma! Way to make a guy doubt his own resolve.”

Kageyama sighs but doesn’t say anything else. Hinata’s aura is one of commitment and tiredness. All he wants to do is sleep, and Kageyama isn’t cruel enough to deny him that. Hinata runs a hand over his jaw to feel the stubble, his mind a gentle hum of thoughtfulness over whether or not he should shave tomorrow. His brow crinkles, and Kageyama feels the irrational urge to smooth it out.

He is quite unfortunately in love with Hinata Shouyou.

But fortune doesn’t abandon him completely—Hinata is too invested in his self-examination to take note of Kageyama’s moment of weakness and mental expression of undying fondness for him. It’s not fair, Kageyama thinks, that someone so courageous and strong and reliable should drop into his life and screw him up completely. He would have been quite content to live with a partner he only tolerated, but no; he was stuck with one that forced him to feel and to work and to make himself the best he could possibly be, not for himself, but for that someone.

And now, Hinata was going off to a different kind of war within their war, all on his own. It made Kageyama ill thinking about Hinata having to fight on his own when Kageyama was only feet away and helpless. All Kageyama can do is let his eyes trace over the muscles in Hinata’s arms, the edge to his jaw, his mess of orange hair, and pray that everything that made Hinata _Hinata_ was strong enough to take down a kaiju.

“I can literally _feel_ you checking out my ass,” Hinata sighs. “I don’t blame you, because it sure is a fine piece of work, but you’re like, _angsting_ over my ass, and that’s kind of weird.”

Kageyama violently chokes on his own spit. Thankfully, their connection isn’t blown wide, just narrow enough to permit emotions to jump between them, but _still_. “I wasn’t staring at your ass,” Kageyama vehemently denies.

“Oh? That’s a shame then. Who else is going to appreciate it if you don’t?” Kageyama doesn’t even _know_ how to interpret that. Is Hinata hitting on him? Is he simply being an annoying idiot? Is Kageyama just overthinking things like usual? Fucking _Hinata_ always kept him on his toes.

Hinata stops examining himself in the mirror and rolls his eyes when he sees Kageyama is still struggling to come up with a reply that isn’t incriminating of his feelings. “Come on, you giant nerd loser,” Hinata sighs, taking Kageyama by the wrist and pulling him to their bedroom.

“Calling me a ‘giant nerd loser’ actually makes you sound like more of a loser than me,” Kageyama says. “Who even _says_ that?”

“What, never heard of pet names?” Hinata replies innocently, and Kageyama sputters weakly. Hinata must feel the turmoil of his emotions because his eyes suddenly can’t meet Kageyama’s and the smile falls from his face. “Sorry, I know I’m giving you mixed signals. I’m just…a bit wound up and I can’t really tell what you’re thinking.”

Kageyama pulls off his shirt and tosses it to the side, watching Hinata’s eyes run up his chest before he looks away _again_ and makes a strangled noise. Kageyama raises an eyebrow. “There. Now we’re _both_ giving off mixed signals,” he deadpans, changing into his sleeping boxers but not bothering with a shirt.

Hinata looks at him again and has a laugh surprised out of him. “I’ve missed you,” he says warmly, changing too.

“I’ve never left you,” Kageyama says, but Hinata shakes his head.

“I know that, but…I missed the ease of our conversations and the teasing. I…I’m really fond of you, Kageyama. Grossly fond.” Hinata has this dumb, happy smile on his face and Kageyama feels a swelling of _something_ he’s not going to examine too closely when their bond is widening.

“Ask me to dinner before you propose, Jesus,” Kageyama says with mock exasperation and earns another laugh for his teasing.

“Who said anything about marriage?” Hinata giggles. “I was just planning on taking you to bed and then dumping you.” He flops backwards on their beds, pushed together again, and looks up at Kageyama. He probably doesn’t mean to, but Hinata’s eyes are half-lidded and his arms are tucked neatly beneath his head. His bare chest is so inviting that Kageyama’s stomach flips and sends a ripple across the bond, which is returned by Hinata almost immediately when he feels Kageyama’s eyes on him so intently.

It’s a giant clusterfuck of feelings that Kageyama is just too damn tired to unravel.

He collapses next to Hinata, face shoved into a pillow an arm draped over Hinata’s chest. Hinata runs absentminded fingers through Kageyama’s hair and sighs. The levity from their conversation fades a little on his side of the Ghost Drift, and Kageyama tilts his head to the side.

“Anxious about tomorrow?” He asks quietly.

“Mm, a little,” Hinata agrees. “Kenma says I have to be fast, but I don’t even know if I’ll find anything worthwhile from the Anteverse. What if this is all for nothing?”

“If that’s your biggest fear,” Kageyama huffs, “then you’ll be just fine.”

“I’m serious!” Hinata whines. “It’s a big deal. Everyone has sunk so much time and energy and money into this plan. Now it’s up to me to make it all worth the effort. That’s a lot of pressure.”

“Moron,” Kageyama sighs. “It’ll be worth it as long as you make it home safe.”

“Sap,” Hinata says with a grin, flipping on his side to look at Kageyama. The grin softens though when he sees the sincerity on Kageyama’s face. “I won’t die, Kageyama,” he says gently. “I swear it. The kaiju are strong, but my willpower is stronger. I have too much to live for.” He leans closer, breath fluttering across Kageyama’s face, and presses a long kiss to his forehead. Kageyama’s heart aches.

“I’ll bring you home,” he murmurs. “I swear that, too.”

“I know you will,” Hinata says. “I trust you.”

 

\--------------------------------------------------------

 

The evening of the following day, the Marshal approaches Hinata after he slips into his nerve suit, making final adjustments while Kageyama goes on ahead.

“You know, Hinata,” the Marshal starts, “you can quit at any time, even now. No one would blame you for doing so.” Hinata almost wants to sigh out loud. _That makes everyone, then_.

“I appreciate the thought, sir,” he replies, tugging the kneeguard into place. “But I’m good.”

Ukai looks like he wants to say something else, but hesitates a bit. “Kuroo and Kozume most likely manipulated you into feeling this way, Hinata. They played on your sympathy and curiosity and loyalty in order to assure that you would take this job.”

“Oh, I’m well aware that they have,” Hinata says grimly. “Kenma all but admitted it to me. But even though manipulation and deception went into my part of the plan, I understand why they did it and why it’s so important that I _don’t_ say no. I don’t hold it against them.”

Ukai scratches the back of his neck uncertainly. “You really are the most unique pilot I’ve ever come across,” he sighs. “Alright, I won’t give you the whole spiel. You’re a good kid, Hinata.” He turns and walks out of the room without another word and Hinata has to grin. Despite his status as a superior, to Hinata, the Marshal sometimes reminded him of a kid trying to fill his dad’s (or in this case, grandfather’s) shoes. It was somewhat of a relief that Ukai wasn’t a stiff-lipped, overly professional kind of guy.

When he hops into the Conn-Pod, Hinata nearly has a heart attack when he looks to his right and sees a wall of black instead of Kageyama.

“Calm,” Kageyama orders gently, reassuring him through their bond. “I’m right here; it’s just the Drifting apparatus.”

“Why’d they put it _here_?” Hinata grumbles, but feels his heart rate begin to decline again. “Well, whatever. Let’s get this done and over with so it can be removed.” Almost as soon as he finishes speaking, the alarm goes off officially to announce a kaiju signature heading their way, and the Jaegers roar to life.

**Alright! Who’s ready to kick some kaiju _ass_?** Bokuto whoops across the com. **I am _pumped_.**

**There’s no need for that excessive volume, Koutarou,** Akaashi sighs.

**Still, it _is_ pretty exciting, isn’t it?** Kuroo adds. Tsukishima’s trademark snort of distaste crackles through only a moment later.

**Let’s get going already, then,** Hinata says. **That kaiju isn’t just going to wait for us to get him.**

**The little guy said it best!** Bokuto crows. **Let’s do this shit!**

**And for god’s sake, please stick to the plan we outlined,** Saeko adds with a sigh. **You kids are too excitable for an old lady like me.**

**Yes, Saeko-neesan,** the pilots vow in unison.

Hinata almost feels bad for the Category Two as it wades through the ocean towards them. It’s pretty scrawny and lacking specialized weapons as far as kaiju went. It roars when it sees the four Jaegers, and Hinata might be imagining it, but it seems to hesitate in approaching them. The Jaegers, however, have no such reservations. Gold Strike fires off a few rounds into its side, just to get it bleeding and angry. And he succeeds. The kaiju forgets any uncertainty it might have felt and charges them.

Gamma Raptor, the heaviest of the Jaegers, rushes the kaiju, firing off rounds of its own while the plasma blades of her ‘claws’ power-up, glowing an eerie blue in the dying light of the sun. The kaiju goes to headbutt Gamma, which is a mistake as she drives her claws into its neck and drags them down its body while also pushing it away from her. The kaiju rears back and frees itself from the claws, hemorrhaging kaiju blue and circling away in a vain attempt to recover.

Strike gives it no chance to do so, continually firing rounds into its back, even going as far as to wound its back leg enough to cripple it. The kaiju snarls in pain, limping towards them, still infuriated, but significantly weakened by its injuries.

**I almost feel bad for it,** Yamaguchi admits what most of them are thinking.

**Don’t be,** Kuroo and Tsukishima say at the same time.

  
**It would do the same to you, given the chance,** Kuroo says gently.

**You know that to be true,** Tsukishima agrees. **Remember AA.**

Although it might not have been his intention, by mentioning the fallen Jaeger, Tsukishima hardens all their resolves to incapacitate the kaiju, even if that meant more or less torturing it until it couldn’t move. **This is most likely the last of the Category Twos,** Kenma adds. **The kaiju will never be this weak again.**

Scrapper Nine circles around the kaiju from behind. It’s clearly not happy at being trapped between two enemies, snapping angrily and growling, but it can’t get away fast enough, and with a burst of speed, Scrapper charges, ocean spray flying. Scrapper isn’t really designed for leaping, but by pressing off the ocean floor with all four paws, he gets enough air to sail over top of the kaiju and land squarely on its back, the weight of the Jaeger immediately shoving it underwater. The kaiju make a strangled cry as it goes down, head sinking below the surface, but Scrapper immobilizes it, standing on each one of the kaiju’s legs. Its tail thrashes wildly, and that’s the first appendage Gamma Raptor removes.

The claws on one hand fuse together to form a plasma blade. **Alright, ready for phase one,** Akaashi says calmly. **Scrapper, we’re going to remove its tail first since it has a blade, just in case. It’s likely not to be happy about all this, so hold it steady and be prepared for thrashing.**

**Roger that,** Kenma acknowledges.

The kaiju’s screams can’t be heard when Gamma cuts off its tail, but it does lurch under the water, shifting Scrapper but not throwing him off. Scrapper digs his paws a little harder into the limbs of the kaiju. **Easy now,** Kuroo murmurs, concentrated.

Tyrant Omega and Gold Strike observe anxiously from a moderately safe distance, Strike still crouched with his sniper rifle out, ready to take down the kaiju in one or two shots should it endanger either of the engaged teams. The first limb removal goes much less smoothly. Gamma swiftly chops of its good hind leg, but the kaiju thrashes with the desperation of a trapped animal and throws Scrapper off. Strike and Omega tense, but the kaiju doesn’t charge them, just flees from its attackers weakly. Strike fires a single shot to its foreleg, stopping it in its tracks long enough for Scrapper to secure it again. Gamma doesn’t screw around this time, slicing off both foreleg and back leg in one stroke, then moving to the other side to finish the job. The kaiju doesn’t even protest, chest barely heaving with breath.

**Phase one complete,** Bokuto says grimly. **Though I don’t feel any sense of victory in brutalizing that thing.**

**Good work Gamma, Scrapper,** Saeko commends from Mission Control. **I know it’s ugly work, but it’s over now.** **Scrapper, you keep it pinned just in case. Omega, you’re up.**

Kageyama and Hinata approach the fallen kaiju, a sea of oily blue swirling around their legs as they wade slowly towards it. The kaiju looks up at them and growls faintly, but clearly not a threat. “You ready?” Kageyama asks Hinata, not really sure if he’s ready himself.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Hinata replies, swallowing nervously. Kageyama does his best to comfort Hinata through the Drift as they align the neural spike over the kaiju’s skull.

**There,** Noya’s voice reaches them over the com. **That’s the weakest part of the superior region of its skull.**

Hinata looks to Kageyama for final visual confirmation and is greeted by the black of the new equipment. _Right,_ he thinks faintly. _I’m alone in this._

_Idiot,_ Kageyama sighs in his mind. _You’re never alone in a Jaeger. Especially not this one._ Around them, Omega hums in anticipation of their next orders, and Hinata feels a shred of relief that Omega, at least, seems unbothered by all the happenings around them.

“Here goes,” Hinata says softly, and then together, they drive the neural spike into the skull of the kaiju with a sickening crunch. They wince in unison.

“Is it working, Noya-san?” Kageyama asks.

**Yup, appears to be online just like how we predicted,** Noya confirms, sounding satisfied with his work. **No abnormalities. Omega, you’re good to go whenever you’re ready. Remember, Kageyama, all you and Omega have to do is bear the weight of the neural load while Hinata fishes around for information.**

Hinata’s hand twitches over the new controls for the Drifting apparatus, but for the first time since he had agreed to do it, Hinata hesitates. He bites his lip. He’s not…afraid…not as much as he had thought he would be, at least. The kaiju can barely manage to heave in breaths through its gills or lungs; it’s clearly no match for Hinata, healthy and strong and backed by his two closest companions, but still, something is eating at him.

_You alright?_ Kageyama probes gently.

_Yeah, just…_ Hinata pauses. _This kaiju is no problem on its own, but…I just have never faced the Anteverse without Kenma here. I don’t know how **they** are going to react to me on my own._ Kageyama is quiet—he doesn’t have an answer for Hinata.

“Well, I’m not getting any younger,” Hinata says cheerfully, disguising his worry with energy and enthusiasm. He taps in the code to activate the the Drifting apparatus and his fingers only shake a little. From behind him, the machine shifts and inserts a new cable into his helmet with a click. Hinata closes his eyes as a fourth link opens between the three of them, empty for the moment but heavy with the promise of something to come. Hinata’s finger hovers over the button to initiate the neural bridge, and in one final committed smash of his hand, he activates it.

The machine hums to life, whirring excitedly as the transfer occurs. Hinata feels the hole in their connection filling up, while at the same time a new hole is torn in his mind. He winces at the pain, but it’s not unbearable. He can see, just a little, through the whole. He feels _pain_ , an inborn sense of duty, the faint calling of millions of voices from somewhere far away, unexpected intelligence, and then—

**_Not today, intruder._ **

Everything swiftly goes to hell.

The slow build of pressure among the three of them freefalls, sending the burden of not just the kaiju’s mind, but every being connected to the hivemind hurtling onto Kageyama and Omega. Kageyama swears and howls in pain, unable to _think_ or _feel Hinata, where is Hinata?_ He can’t move, can’t fight—he’s Atlas under the weight of the Earth, unable to comprehend anything but the pressure blowing his brains out and the warning sirens blaring in the Conn-Pod and thick, mucus-like substance pouring from his nose _oh god it’s blood, he’s hemorrhaging from the weight—_

_Where is Hinata?_

Omega shoves at the weight with all the strength of his synthetic kaiju mind, but it’s like the fact that their minds are so similar enrages the kaiju because the pressure only _increases_ , a slow-boiling rage that _isn’t Kageyama’s_ bleeding into his mind despite Omega’s desperate, screaming attempt to protect him.

_Where is Hinata?_

Kageyama can’t feel the source of the kaiju, can’t see the Anteverse at all. He doesn’t understand why, since he should be able to see everything Hinata can see, but he can’t feel Hinata, can’t feel a trace of his mind or pain, or _anything_ from his left side. He tries to plead with Omega to try and protect Hinata, but Omega won’t listen, won’t stop fighting the kaiju’s mind from crushing them like ants beneath a boot. It was almost like Omega wasn’t worried about Hinata, or didn’t need to worry about Hinata…

The cold wash of dread over Kageyama’s spine clears his mind under the pressure.

_Where is Hinata?_

**_Where is Hinata?_ **

_And why the fuck won’t those sirens shut the hell up?_

Only…only Omega and every other Jaeger in production wasn’t equipped with sirens. They had alarms, but none of that blaring, tortured wailing that grated against Kageyama’s ears even when he couldn’t think clearly.

Oh, but hadn’t this happened before? That same kind of twisted wailing.

Hinata was _screaming_.

**FOR FUCK’S SAKE!** Noya roars across the com. **KILL THE KAIJU AND CUT HINATA OFF FROM KAGEYAMA BEFORE THE PRECURSORS FIND HIM, TOO!**

Saeko slams the button to manually cut off the Drift between pilots at the same time Gamma drives her blade through the skull of the kaiju, snapping off the neural spike. Kageyama falls out of the Drift violently, coming to in the Conn-Pod too swiftly to be safe. He tears off his helmet and heaves, throwing up all over the floor of the Conn-Pod at the whiplash from _pressure_ to _nothing_. He falls out of the command platform, collapsing on shaking hands and knees and _why was Hinata still screaming?_

Kageyama whips his head around and forces the nausea and dizziness down to see Hinata clawing at his helmet desperately, thrashing while still attached to the Drifting apparatus. Kageyama stumbles on his hands and knees towards Hinata, panicking over the fact that he can’t even feel the Ghost Drift between them, can’t tell how much pain Hinata is in and he has to _save him_.

Kageyama climbs to his feet and rips Hinata’s helmet off, freeing him from the machine. Hinata’s screams turn into sickly moans that sound so like Koushi, Kageyama’s legs give out and they both collapse on the floor, Hinata trembling and spasming in Kageyama’s arms. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands and his vision is going blurry but Hinata won’t lie _still_ , sobbing and quaking with the weight of something Kageyama can’t even comprehend.

“H-Hinat-ta,” Kageyama stutters out in a whisper, teeth chattering. He reaches out a hand to brush away some hair from Hinata’s temple and Hinata violently jumps away from the touch, managing to hurl the upper half of his body away from Kageyama, hyperventilating.

“ _Don’t touch me!_ ” He screeches, pawing weakly at the ground and shoving himself away from Kageyama. Kageyama can’t even pursue, eyes wide. He looks from the blood on his hand to the bloody trail running down Hinata’s neck from both his ears and the twin trails down his chin and wet on his lip from his nose. His eyes are feral and bloodshot, not a single shred of recognition in them when he looks at Kageyama.

“ _Hinata_ ,” Kageyama whispers desperately, mind clearing a little. “What _happened?_ ”

“I saw,” Hinata moans. “I saw _everything_.”

 

\----------------------------------------

 

The moment the kaiju dies, all communication with Omega goes down. The Jaeger itself shuts down without any input by Mission Control or the pilots themselves, and the rest of the team is left completely in the dark.

**What the fuck just happened?!** Tsukishima yells. **Is anyone getting readings from Hinata and Kageyama?**

**We’re trying to page them,** Bokuto says desperately. **There’s not—there’s nothing—**

**_Keep trying_ ,** Tsukishima snarls. **Saeko, anything?**

**Shit,** Saeko swears. **I’m getting something. Two life signs—oh god, they’re both breathing—one is hyper-panicked and stressed, the other…fuck, the other is _very faint_ and fading fast, oh god _call Ennoshita and his nurses right now!_**

“Fuck,” Kenma whispers, clutching their head. “Fuck, Kuro, there’s more—”

**Can we do anything to help?** Akaashi says anxiously.

“More?” Kuroo feels the blood drain from his face. “More what? More _kaiju_?”

**There’s…there’s no way to do so without harming Omega’s frame…** Saeko says weakly.

**Oh, for the love of all that is holy,** Noya snarls. **Tear him apart if you have to! Just get the pilots out of there! That’s a direct fucking order!**

Kenma gasps in pain, doubling over. “The fucking—the feedback from the kaiju is hitting me, too, shit, Kuro, they’re going to _see me_ —”

**Roger that,** Bokuto says grimly, and then Gamma Raptor steps towards Omega and uses a plasma claw to cut off the spines on Omega’s head, clearing a space for the medical helicopter to land.

“Kenma!” Kuroo shouts. “Tell me, _now! Are there more kaiju?_ ”

**We’re two minutes out,** Ennoshita says grimly. **Kinoshita and Narita have prepared everything, so we’re ready for whatever we face down there.**

“ _No_ ,” Kenma snarls. “No there are not more fucking kaiju, this is exponentially worse if you would just _listen to me_ —”

“What the actual fuck could be worse than having another kaiju attack us right now?” Kuroo returns the snarl, curling his lip.

Ennoshita is out of the helicopter before it even touches down. Narita is right behind him, running ahead to lift open the hatch while Ennoshita practically throws himself into the Conn-Pod, worried by the rapidly fading life signature from one of the pilots. He doesn’t know what to expect, but he’s prepared for anything.

He had just hoped it wouldn’t be this.

Kageyama snarls like an animal when he sees Ennoshita. “ _Get the fuck away from us!_ ” He roars, tightening his grip around Hinata, who he had pulled into his arms. They were curled in the corner of the Conn-Pod, blood splattered all over the floor from Hinata. Hinata is limp in his arms, tears wet on his cheeks, but lips still moving in a quiet chant.

Ennoshita takes a cautious step forward, palms up in an attempt to appease Kageyama. It doesn’t work. Kageyama growls even louder, lashing out with a kick that stops Ennoshita in his tracks. “Take another step and I’ll _kill you_ ,” Kageyama spits.

“I’m a doctor,” Ennoshita says softly. “I need to help him, Kageyama. Hinata is dying.”

“Fuck off,” Kageyama growls. “He’s fine. He’s going to be fine.”

Behind Ennoshita, Narita and Kinoshita drop in. Ennoshita’s brow creases and he bites his lip. “I’m sorry, Kageyama,” he whispers, “but you’re going to kill him by protecting him. Please don’t fight.” To Kinoshita and Narita, Ennoshita says, “Please secure Kageyama while I take care of the patient.”

Kageyama curls his lip and bares his teeth, but before anyone can move, Hinata lets out a soft whine. Kageyama’s animalistic expression falls away to concern and he focuses back in on Hinata, gripping him tightly but carefully. “Hinata?” He calls, as broken-sounding and soft as a child’s.

“Can’t feel,” Hinata whimpers. “Can’t feel them.”

“Who?” Kageyama asks gently. “Who can’t you feel?”

Hinata lets out a truly broke sob that shakes his tiny form. “Can’t feel anything.” He tries to lift himself off Kageyama and fails, arms giving out. Ennoshita feels his blood run cold, and behind him, Kinoshita swears and Narita gasps and covers his mouth.

“What is it?” Kageyama pleads. “Let me help you.”

“Can’t feel my _legs_ ,” Hinata finally sobs. “I’m _trying_ —” He makes a strained face and then wails when nothing happens.

Kageyama is still. He looks like a perfect statue of shock, cradling a broken Hinata who starts to cry in earnest weakly, and Ennoshita shakes himself because Hinata was really going to die pretty soon if he didn’t get to a hospital. Kinoshita and Narita move towards Kageyama, but he doesn’t see them, can’t see anything but Hinata. They pry Hinata from Kageyama’s grip and he watches them, _just lets them_ , his eyes distant.

Ennoshita brings the stretcher forward, and Narita scoops up Hinata into his arms delicately and lies him out on the stretcher, Kinoshita strapping him in while Ennoshita looks him over. Kageyama snaps back to his senses when Ennoshita asks Hinata a few questions to keep him awake.

“What are you doing,” he whispers. “He’s fine, he can _walk_ —”

Hinata hears him and then he starts to panic a little, breathing uneven and chest rising too rapidly to be healthy. “Can’t,” he whimpers. “I can’t move them, I can’t feel _anything_ —”

“Don’t touch me!” Kageyama snarls when Narita offers to help him to his feet. Kageyama stumbles upright and watches Ennoshita and Kinoshita wheel Hinata away to the hatch.

“Kageyama,” Hinata says suddenly. “Where is he, _where is he_ , _let me see him!_ ”

“For fuck’s sake,” Ennoshita growls. “Kageyama! Snap out of it and get over here and help me! Hinata fucking _needs you_ right now; you don’t have time to go into shock!” Kageyama jerks and shakes his head to clear it.

“Right,” he whispers, and follows the medics out of the Conn-Pod, taking his place in the medical helicopter next to Hinata and holds his hand while Ennoshita starts treatment on Hinata and the nurses ask him questions he can't focus on. Neither Kageyama nor Hinata stop crying, tears dripping down their faces without acknowledgement, the first drops of rain of the storm, no longer brewing but beginning its reign.

 

\------------------------------------------

 

“What’s worse than another kaiju attacking us right now?” Kenma whispers. “You’re asking me what’s _worse?_ ”

Kuroo can’t get any read off of Kenma. They have slammed the Ghost Drift shut, even blocked out Kuroo from the Drift within the Jaeger, and he is left bewildered. “Yes,” he snaps. “I want to know what has your panties in such a twist that you think _a kaiju attack when we’re down a Jaeger_ isn’t the worst thing to happen to us right now.”

“Oh god, Kuro, what have we done?” Kenma moans. “What have we done?”

“I can’t see in your mind,” Kuroo says desperately. “Kenma, what’s going on?”

“They saw,” they hiss. “The Precursors saw _everything_ —me, Hinata, all our weapons and plans—fucking _everything_. That kaiju—that kaiju committed _suicide_ , tearing its mind apart to hurt Hinata. And you know what the worst part is?” Kenma laughs humorlessly.

“All we’ve seen and all we’ve fought? That’s _nothing_. It’s _nothing_ compared to what they had in store for us from the very beginning, Kuro. They were waiting us out, wiping out most our defenses with the _small fry_ , but now we’ve angered them. The ‘general’ is coming, Kuro. _What have we done?_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :(


	11. and now his blood will flow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: chapter partially rewritten on 05/12/16
> 
> WELL HOLY HELL, THANKS FOR 2200+ KUDOS???? also, happy birthday bfmtias!! i've officially been writing this monster for a year now, whew. moving on, as i've mentioned on both my tumblr and twitter, this chapter ended up being so large i had to split it in two, so the chapter count of bfmtias is being bumped up to 14! next chapter will probably be on the short side, but it will be up in a week or two when i'm busy moving into university, oops.
> 
> minor warning for suicidal thoughts, self-harm, and ableist language, all due to trauma and coming from the trauma victim himself.

 

One time, back before Kuroo truly understood the meaning of the end of the world, someone told him he looked like a black panther. He can’t quite remember their name or their face, but he does remember quite clearly the nervous edge to their voice and the wobbly, uncertain smile; the hiccupped laugh that tried to pass the comment off as a joke, for fear he would take it the wrong way (he had a reputation, even when he was young). Back then, Kuroo had given that person a villainous smile, showing all his teeth, and closed his eyes until there were just slits, the silence stretching between them threatening to strangle that person.

They weren’t exactly wrong, of course. Kuroo was a predator; he skulked around corners and lingered in the shadows, a tangible darkness haunting the base. No one ever challenged his silently domineering presence aside from the other pilots, the bigger cats, making sure Kuroo knew he wasn’t king of the jungle.

Kuroo knew. He didn’t want the stardom they wanted. He wanted his little space carved into the base, a position for him and for Kenma that no one would threaten, and he got it. He wasn’t the top of the food chain, but no one would feed on him, either. It gave him a kind of freedom that both he and Kenma utilized to the fullest extent, making plans and getting away with things that younger, more nervous pilot pairs couldn’t. They were wild, an earned and respected liberty that kept the smug smirk plastered across Kuroo’s face when the two of them walked by the other members of the base who gave them dirty looks and the friends who gave them worried ones.

Kuroo isn’t used to feeling caged and helpless.

He paces that same room, the borrowed quarters, but no amount of prime numbers or details about his surroundings can calm his racing mind and pulse. He whips sharply around the corners of their quarters, clipping corners and wearing the shape of his feet into the carpet. If Kuroo holds still, then surely the weight of what has happened and what is to come will crush him. There is no present for the Kuroo who lives in it. There is only the past and the inevitable.

The truth of the matter is, he and Kenma fucked up. Years’ worth of planning and careful consideration of limits and dangers…ripped to shreds the moment Hinata started screaming. But this isn’t like other fuck-ups of theirs—this one implicates the Marshal, Yaku, Lev, Akaashi, _Bokuto_ …

Kuroo comes to a sudden halt, nearly tripping over his own feet. He sinks his hands deep into his wreck of a head of hair and tugs at the strands, hoping the pain would give him clarity. It doesn’t though, just reminds him that he’s trapped in a cell, waiting for his jailer to unlock the door, usher him out in cuffs, and hang him for his crimes against humanity.

 _The best intentions…_ Kuroo thinks. _We had the best intentions_ , but he knows intent is worthless when one bets the fate of their species. He and Kenma are on death row for their crimes, counting the minutes until they are taken away and executed for what they have done.

There’s a knock at the door, and Kuroo jumps a foot. He feels foolish, wound up. Not himself.

He doesn’t say ‘come in.’ There’s no need for politeness or respect when the reaper is standing on the other side of the door. Kuroo changes his stance, shifting into something defensive and ready to fight. He stands in front of their room and takes a breath to calm himself. It doesn’t really matter what’s on the other side of that door. He already made up his mind to fight to the death for Kenma, years ago. He will not falter now.

The sound of the master key scraping in the keyhole hardens Kuroo’s muscles to stone. Each sinew in his body is a steel wire barely able to contain the fearful aggression that lays just under his skin. _They cannot have you_. The door swings open and Kuroo puts up his hands, curled into loose fists. He’s a boxer in the ring, flicking hair out of his eyes but never breaking his gaze away from the prize.

“Jesus Christ,” Takeda-sensei says upon entering. “Kuroo-kun, we’re not here to _hurt_ you.”

Kuroo doesn’t shift from his position. Ukai enters the room as well and looks at Kuroo for a long moment, assessing. “You’re not going on trial or anything ridiculous like that, so you can drop the act,” he says slowly.

“Give me any reason at all that I should believe you,” Kuroo hisses, low and dangerous.

Ukai narrows his eyes. “I don’t think you’re really one to talk about trust.”

“What do you want, if not to drag us off to our inevitable death?” Kuroo asks, sharp, but with a hint of his usual flippantness.

“We need to talk to Kozume,” Ukai says.

Kuroo barks a laugh. “Cute,” he sneers. “You’re not laying a finger on them.”

Takeda isn’t fast enough to stop Ukai from surging forward, dodging Kuroo’s frightened and weak blow, batting him aside like he was a kitten. Ukai grabs a fistful of his collar and smashes Kuroo into the nearest wall, every inch of his face dripping rage. Kuroo kicks out at him and Ukai socks Kuroo _hard_ in the stomach, hard enough to make him cough and then wheeze weakly, returning Ukai’s glare half-heartedly. Kuroo knows he's beaten before either of them have to open their mouths.  


“Keishin, please, don’t—” Takeda pleads.

“ _Fuck you_ ,” Ukai snarls at Kuroo. “Fuck you, we heard the end of your transmission with Kozume. What the fuck is ‘the general’?”

Kuroo’s eyes flash with the fear of a trapped animal. “You leave them the fuck alone,” he growls. “If you so much as touch Kenma, I’ll—”

“Please, tell me what you’ll do,” Ukai interrupts, breathing heavily through his nose. “Will you call up a kaiju from the Anteverse? Will you tell the Precursors all our military secrets as one final act of revenge?”

“I will kill you,” Kuroo says so coldly, Ukai instantly knows he’s telling the truth. If he does this by force, Kuroo will kill him or die trying. Those eyes are the eyes of a man with nothing left to lose.

The Marshal snarls and throws Kuroo aside. “I don’t want to kill either of you. I don’t want to hurt you, or put you on trial, or anything of the sort.”

“Then what _do_ you want?” Kuroo snarls back.

“Kuroo-kun,” Takeda says softly, quelling the tension between the two men. “I don’t think you quite understand our situation. There’s been a meeting.”

Kuroo looks between them slowly. He straightens up, crosses his arms over his chest, and narrows his eyes. “…Go on.”

“It was between all the Marshals heading up bases around the world,” Ukai rumbles. “All the head honchos, the big guys. _All of them_. They were all watching our little experiment. They saw it go wrong.”

“ _How?_ ” Kuroo chokes, horrified.

Ukai drags a hand down his face with a sigh. Takeda gives him a sympathetic look. “It’s our fault,” he explains. “When we put in the orders for the kaiju Drifting apparatus, we had to include some specifics. I’m sure it looked suspicious. We can’t blame the manufacturers for calling it in.”

“Everything we did was fucking unauthorized,” Ukai growls. “It was just the whims of our base and the personnel here that directed the operation. We didn’t consult other bases nor truly stopped and considered if it was a good idea or what other scientists thought. Maybe they would have approved, maybe not. Either way, we went about in a wrong and illegal way.”

“What are you getting at?” Kuroo asks.

“They tore us a new one,” Ukai murmurs. “I’m honestly amazed Ittetsu and I weren’t arrested for allowing it to go on. It’s probably due entirely to the fact that there is no one else to run this base. But the point is that everyone on this base is in deep shit. Our funding is being removed over the next couple months, and by next year the Miyagi base will be absorbed by another primary base because of ‘incompetent leadership.’ We’re finished.”

“It’s all we could do to keep you and Kozume-kun from being taken away and prosecuted,” Takeda adds, still in that soft but serious tone of voice. “Do you understand now why we _need_ to see Kozume-kun?”

Kuroo’s defensive posture slumps into one of utter defeat. He slams his head on the wall and digs his nails into his palms. The base’s fallen leadership watches as he bites his lip, then swings his head forward, eyes darting around the room as if he could find a solution hidden on borrowed walls. Eventually his gaze settles on Takeda. He holds his hands out, palms up, in complete surrender. “This wasn’t supposed to happen,” he pleads. “We never—we never _imagined_ that the kaiju would fight back. We had no way of—” But he knows it’s a pathetic, weak argument.

“No one was supposed to get hurt,” Kuroo continues dully, looking away from Takeda to trace the path of a spider on their ceiling. “Hinata, maybe. We thought it might be possible that he would die, but never that the kaiju would use the mental link to tear him apart from the inside out, find all our secrets and even find _Kenma_ …” He takes a deep breath. “No one was supposed to go down with us. Not either of you, not the base, not _anyone_ , just us two idiots with a batshit crazy idea that we thought might work.”

Kuroo curses loudly and spins around, slamming his fist through the wall, shoulders shaking. “ _Fuck…_ ” he whispers. “Fuck the entire plan, fuck the kaiju and the Precursors, fuck us for even _dreaming_ that we could have the upper hand against a highly intelligent alien species…” He presses his head against the wall gently. “Kenma won’t even talk to me anymore and Koutarou…Koutarou will never be trusted, never be able to pilot freely again because of our mistake. God, we even brought Yaku and Lev into this! Lev’s career is just beginning, he’s still just a kid…”

“Actually,” Takeda breaks in, “Yaku-kun and Haiba-kun won’t be caught up in all of this. Azumane-kun managed to sneak them out when things started to go wrong—he can’t watch kaiju attacks anyway, but he had the foresight to think that they would be better off back at Tokyo with no one the wiser.”

“What?” Kuroo whispers, small as a child. “They got out?”

He turns around and puts a hand over his mouth, making a choking, sobbing noise into his palm. His eyes are unusually wet and glimmering under the fluorescent light of the room. “ _Thank you,_ ” he murmurs, and the relief is palpable. “Thank you for not saying anything about them.”

“The council may still figure it out,” Ukai grumbles. “But they’ve got a head start on coming up with an alibi at least.” He takes a hold of Kuroo’s shoulder and shakes him twice, firmly. “Do you understand, Kuroo? We’re not on opposing sides anymore. Everyone in this room is a black sheep, and we only have each other to rely on. Ittetsu and I didn’t say anything about ‘the general’ because we don’t know anything about what it is. But if it’s worse than the kaiju, we figured it’d be better to keep that information to ourselves.”

“The last thing we need is mass panic and yet another reason for the council to stick our heads on spikes,” Takeda adds with the ghost of a smile.

“We need to look out for each other now,” Ukai says. “There’s no fallback. Not even Momoe can help us.” Ukai looks deeply sad, a sorrow that Kuroo understands immediately. It is one thing to tear apart friendships, but another thing altogether to divide co-pilots, even after they are decommissioned. It’s the breaking of the Marshals’ bond that finally cracks him.

“I’m sorry,” Kuroo says with complete sincerity. “I’ll help you. So will Kenma.”

Takeda lets out a sigh of relief. “I swear it, Kuroo-kun,” he says, “we won’t hurt Kozume-kun or force them to share anything they can’t bear to share. We just need to know what to do next. We’re lost.”

“They’ll understand,” Kuroo assures him, and then turns to the door. Kenma is probably already awake and tensed around whatever weapon they could find anyway, considering the volume of their argument. Kuroo prepares to be slashed or swung at, but there’s nothing as he opens the door to their shared bedroom.

“Kenma?” Kuroo calls softly, wondering if despite it all, Kenma slept through the noise. The lump on the bed doesn’t budge. Kuroo sighs softly. “It’s okay; we’re safe.” Still no response. Kuroo pads to Kenma’s side, reaching out a hand to shake them awake.

When his hand connects with and then shoves aside a mass of blankets and pillow but no Ranger, Kuroo feels the first dregs of panic enter his bloodstream. He steps out of the room wide-eyed, and the other two occupants know something is up immediately. “Kenma is _gone_ ,” Kuroo rasps, still not looking at anyone, brain working overtime.

“What the _fuck_ ,” Ukai says in disbelief, but an idea occurs to Takeda and Kuroo at the same time.

They exchange anxious glances. “ _Hinata,_ ” they breathe in unison.

 

\----------------------------------------------

 

If anyone were to ask Ennoshita what the worst thing he has ever seen as a doctor was, his first instinct would be to say the UDSS patients that are delivered to him for examination and prescription of neurodrugs. How could anyone not see the chilling horror of another human’s mind being ripped apart and not be haunted for the rest of their life? True, even remembering how Koushi had looked makes him sick to his stomach, but Ennoshita has to say that it’s the dead, apathetic look in the eyes of those patients who are on his medication that really got to him. A shell of their former selves, wishing for death but denied it—that to Ennoshita is worse than any screaming, thrashing desperation.

However, he can’t deny that the second-worst thing he’s ever seen as a doctor is the loved ones of the patients.

An exhale warms the glass looking into Hinata’s hospital room, condensing on its surface and blurring—if just for a moment—the solemn scene within. Hinata lies as still as Snow White, waiting for his true love’s kiss or a miracle or a time machine to bring him back to the time when he said _I will go_ , still so fearless and full of life. And next to him, sprawled across the side of his bed like a sleeping cat, Kenma sits.

Kenma’s head is down, resting on the scratchy sheets while they trace over Hinata’s hand with their long, thin fingers. They’re a skeleton next to a dying boy, and the whole scene makes Ennoshita shiver with thoughts of mortality and the fragility of human life. Kenma hadn’t come in once Ennoshita allowed visitors; they had waited until everyone had shed their tears and left get-well gifts to slink in, taking their place at his side like a stone guardian. They had whispered to Hinata words Ennoshita could hardly make out, a constant stream as if to call Hinata back to the world of the living.

Ennoshita swallows tightly. Well, that isn’t all true.

He heard the muffled apologies slip from Kenma in a tumble of words, the _sorry sorry I’m so sorry Shouyou I never meant to hurt you I’m sorry_ that didn’t stop the entire time Ennoshita was in the room with them. It's the kind of numb, brokenness that trapped Kenma in a bubble, unable to part from Hinata even for a second. They haven’t eaten or slept or really moved since they slipped in, but Ennoshita can’t bring himself to shoo them away.

Maybe it means nothing, but he knows there is a connection between Hinata and Kenma—not as strong as the one between Hinata and Kageyama, but real and important. There is a chance Kenma could call Hinata back.

It's high time he comes back.

Ennoshita squeezes his eyes shut and rubs a hand over his face, exhausted. Somewhere down the road, at a different hospital, there is a room marked with the name ‘Tsukishima’ and inside, a man who has not woken since a kaiju attack. In a room just down the hall in his own hospital, there is another man, struggling and fighting to prove his worth and overcome his weakness caused by a kaiju attack. And in the room in front of him, still and sleeping, is a patient in stable condition who refuses to wake up after a kaiju attack.

 _Not another,_ Ennoshita pleads with whatever deity will listen. _We can’t—we won’t **survive** if another one can’t pull through._ It’s not just the loss of a pilot and a Jaeger and a powerful team—it’s the drop in morale that will put an end to Miyagi’s resistance. _We cannot afford to lose you, Hinata._

When Ennoshita looks up again, he catches a glimpse of Kuroo out the corner of his eye. _Another headache._ He can’t even muster up the energy to be mad at Kuroo, or tell him off for helping to put another one of Miyagi’s precious pilots in the hospital. There’s no righteous fury left in Ennoshita’s heart. He’s just empty. And deeply, deeply sad.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Ennoshita scolds Kuroo gently, but Kuroo isn’t even wearing his usual façade of cocky self-confidence and instigation. He, too, looks worn thin. Then Ennoshita sees the Marshal and Takeda-sensei behind him and he understands.

“It’s time, then,” he states when the party reaches him. He doesn’t know what the Marshal will do with the two wayward pilots, but at this point it’s out of his hands. “I’ll get Kozume,” he says softly.

He opens the door with a heavy heart. “Kozume? The Marshal and Takeda are here to see you.”

Kenma doesn’t look up, but stops talking to Hinata. “Is Kuroo with them?” They ask, voice thin and fragile-sounding.

Ennoshita bites his lip. “Yes.”

There’s a moment where nothing happens, then Kenma rises to their feet, hair hanging in their face. They lean over, once, to press a kiss to Hinata’s forehead, and then turn to face Ennoshita. The caregiver in Ennoshita’s heart aches. Kenma is a ragged wreck of stress and worry for Hinata. Their eyes are bloodshot—from crying or not-sleeping, Ennoshita can’t be sure—and beneath them, half-moons of grey carve themselves into Kenma’s face.

They move past Ennoshita like a ghost, locking eyes with Kuroo and collapsing into him. Kuroo stumbles a little but braces Kenma, pulling them into a tight hug. “I’m ready,” Kenma rasps quietly. “Whatever they have in store for us, I’m ready. I’ve said my goodbyes.”

“This isn’t a trial,” Ukai explains patiently. “We need you to tell us all you know about ‘the general.’”

The reality of Kenma's situation is too ridiculous for them to handle. Kenma laughs, loud and ugly and hysterical. Everyone except Kuroo flinches in surprise. Kenma, usually so quiet and composed, wipes at their eyes a little, hiccupping a smaller laugh. “I’m sorry,” they say. “It’s just…I had prepared myself to die. I’m honestly amazed you’ll listen to a single word I have to say.”

“We don’t have a choice anymore,” Ukai warns, the weight of his words turning Kenma serious again.

They scrutinize the tired but relieved look in Kuroo’s eyes, the anxiousness in Takeda's posture, and the formality with an edge of bitterness in Ukai’s voice. They blink once in understanding. “Something happened,” they say, not as a question, but as a fact. No one denies their claim. Kenma narrows their eyes. “If you’ve gone through this with Kuro and he agreed to talk with you, I will tell you everything I know.”

“It’s okay,” Kuroo whispers. “They’re…I think they’re on our side now. They don’t have an option not to be.”

“Let’s take this somewhere more private,” Takeda suggests, shooting Ennoshita a regretful look.

Ennoshita holds up his hands. “Oh, don’t worry about me. Whatever business you have with Kozume will probably give me even _more_ frown lines. I don’t want to hear it.” With that, he steps back into Hinata’s room and closes the door.

“There’s a soundproof room just down the hall,” Kuroo says, leading the way. Ukai brings up the rear, shutting the door behind him when they arrive at the room and everyone files in. He crosses his arms over his chest.

“Okay Kozume,” he growls. “Spill.”

Kenma sits down on the bed, rubbing at their temples. “I said I’d tell you everything I know, but honestly, there isn’t that much to tell. When Shouyou made the link with the kaiju and it ruptured the bond in order to hurt him, I only got a very small part of what was going on between them. You must understand, the fact that I got any feedback at all should have been impossible, considering the relative size of the hivemind compared to just my mind.”

“But you know enough,” Takeda presses.

“I know _some_ ,” Kenma sighs. “Kuro and I—we had no idea that by forming the link with a live kaiju we would severely upset the Precursors. And they _are_ upset. Whatever Shouyou saw was probably as important as the military secrets and plans and Jaegers and bases that the Precursors saw in Shouyou’s mind. I don’t know exactly what either they or Shouyou saw, but I do know that they now have the ability to launch much more accurate attacks, perhaps even ones targeting the weaknesses of individual bases.”

Ukai swears fiercely and Takeda pales. Kuroo composes his face into one of grim neutrality and squeezes Kenma’s shoulder gently. Kenma takes a shaky breath. “Now this…this is the part that’s going to be hard to hear. I could hardly comprehend it when I got the feedback from the kaiju. The kaiju we’ve seen…Categories One through Four…those ones are just the beginning. The Precursors have been steadily increasing the size and ferocity of kaiju over the years _on purpose_. The double event, too, was all part of the plan. This is…well, I suppose you’d consider it the ‘first wave’ of kaiju—up to Category Seven or so and double or triple events. Their purpose is to wipe out the largest centers of humanity and blow down our defenses.”

Silence greets Kenma’s explanation. Takeda has a hand over his mouth, looking through Kenma as if searching for the answer to this problem. It’s Ukai who finally says, voice cracking, “The _first_ wave?”

“We’re the biggest obstacle between the Precursors and the earth,” Kenma says glumly. “They use kaiju to wipe out the ‘alpha’ species of the planet without getting their claws dirty. But that’s not the problem. The problem is the _second_ wave of kaiju.

“These ones are not like the kaiju we have faced thus far—animalistic, moving only with the instinct to destroy, unintelligent. To put this in perspective, if the ‘first wave’ kaiju are like the hounds, then the ‘second wave’ kaiju are the hunters who follow behind to truly make the kill. They are highly intelligent, critical thinkers and problem solvers, and _big_ too. I don’t…know exactly how big, but at least a Category Ten. At least.

“The general I saw is not necessarily a ‘general’ as we think in human war, but I just don’t know how else to describe him. He’s the alpha of the alphas, the trump card the Precursors hardly have to play, one who has seen the destruction of a thousand worlds past and a thousand worlds to come. There is no measure we have aside from unleashing every nuclear weapon of every country on him and hoping to destroy him by destroying the planet.”

“ _Why?_ ” Takeda asks finally, horrified. “Why would they go to such great lengths?”

Kenma pats their chest and offers a weak smile. “Because of me and because of Shouyou. I guess no species has ever penetrated the sanctity of their hivemind before us. We’ve made them _furious_ , so now they’re sending the general out to kill me and Shouyou, and take down the Jaeger program while he’s at it. They’re probably safeguarding a secret weakness in the hivemind, but my connection isn’t strong enough to tell what it is. Shouyou’s might, though. But he won’t wake up.” The last sentence is spoken in a tiny voice.

“Shit.” Ukai sums up the whole conversation nicely. “That’s… _shit_.” Kuroo lets out a long whistle.

“Unfortunately,” Kenma sighs, “no matter what I say, it doesn’t matter. Kuro and I have already proved ourselves foolish and unreliable—there’s no way the council of Marshals at bases around the world will listen to us. We’re sunk. Also, the human race is going to die.”

“We have a bit of a confession about that, too,” Ukai sighs as well. “Ittetsu and I are just as sunk as you two. Because we supported you and went behind the council’s back to carry out the mission, they’re going to remove us from power soon.”

Kenma’s eyes widen. “ _They can’t_ ,” they hiss. “I thought maybe you could ‘find from another source’ the information I’m giving you, but if they won’t listen to you either—”

“Does it really matter, though?” Kuroo asks. “I mean, the human race has lost, right?”

Kenma gives him a humorless grin. “That’s true.”

“Is there really no way we can win?” Takeda asks.

“Nope. No way in hell,” Kenma concludes, leaning back on their hands. “However…we can always give him a run for his money.”

“Suicide mission?” Ukai raises an eyebrow.

“More of a ‘taking one for the team’ kind of deal, I think,” Kuroo explains. “There’s no way our four Jaegers will make it. But we can slow the general down, weaken him, so that other bases can get a force together and hopefully stop him with their combined efforts.”

“So a suicide mission,” Ukai deadpans.

“A _heroic_ suicide mission,” Kuroo corrects, but then bursts out laughing. “Oh my god,” he wheezes. “Oh my god, we’re going to _die_.”

Kenma reaches out a hand to steady Kuroo, taking his hand and threading their fingers together. “Kuro?” They prompt.

“I’m so sorry,” Kuroo whispers. “I’m _scared_.”

In that moment, Ukai really and truly understands what he’s looking at. These are not some devious creatures from another world that slipped into his base—these are _kids_ , not even thirty years old yet, with families at home and the promise of families to build. They aren’t married, they haven’t gone to college, they haven’t been recognized as the military heroes they are, they haven’t gotten to retire to the country and live the rest of their lives peacefully.

Kuroo and Kenma are just kids. Talented and frightened and _trying_ , but they are just kids.

“We’ll help you,” Takeda speaks for both of them, voice hoarse. “I…Keishin and I can’t fight with you, but I swear to _god_ we will support you will all our power and the remainder of our funds, whatever we can do, to bring you back home again. You’re not alone.”

“The other teams will go too,” Ukai says.

“You can’t order them to throw their liv—” Kuroo starts, but Ukai is already shaking his head.

“No, I would never. But they will, regardless of what I say, follow you to the end if you truly believe that this is the end. They are all warriors. This much I know,” he states.

Kuroo and Kenma exchange glances. “Can you do this?” Kenma asks gently. “One last time, together?”

Kuroo gives them a shaky smile. “It’s for the cause, isn’t it? All of this has always been for the cause. If we can’t save the world now, then what was the point of everything we’ve accomplished?”

Kenma presses their forehead to Kuroo’s hand. _I will follow you anywhere,_ Kenma whispers across their bond. _I followed you here and I will follow you out if you wish to run. You and I both know the cause doesn’t matter anymore._

 _Yes it does_ , Kuroo whispers back, so faint Kenma has to strain to hear it. _I have to save the world. It’s the only place that has Kozume Kenma in it. How could I let the kaiju and the Precursors take that away from me?_

“ _Kuro_ ,” Kenma breathes aloud, shocked, but Kuroo doesn’t listen to them.

“We’ll do it,” Kuroo says firmly to Ukai and Takeda. “We’ll fight one last time.”

Kenma doesn’t let go of his hand.

 

\--------------------------------------

 

There’s something refreshing about going under completely—for one thing, when Kageyama next wakes, all the shock and fear and anxiety has left his mind and body. The last things Kageyama remembers before he went under are the sound of Narita’s voice coaxing him from Hinata’s side in the helicopter, and the slightest prick of a needle in his arm before blacking out into blissful nothing.

When he comes to, Kageyama blinks awake, scowling and squinting at the ridiculous brightness of his surroundings. His vision and mind are still blurry, and he can’t quite reconcile the stark contrast between the dark helicopter and this…place. He scrubs at his eyes, and they clear enough for him to focus on the room.

Kageyama sits up on a bed, white and soft as the rest of the room with its barely blue walls and sheer curtains flickering in the wisps of breeze floating through an open window. The scents of the sea and the aftermath of a storm reach Kageyama’s nose, and he shakes his head to remove the artificial tiredness from the drugs. When his mind clears, Kageyama nearly jumps, noticing Koushi standing by the windowsill, dressed in soft gray and white, a light jacket fluttering at the edges.

He turns his most charming smile on Kageyama. “Morning, sleepyhead.”

Kageyama swallows and asks, “Am I dead?”

For a moment, Koushi looks astounded, but then bursts out laughing. “No, you’re not dead,” he giggles. “You’re in Miyagi’s hospital. We’re sharing a room now while you recover.”

Kageyama raises an eyebrow. “Are you sure?” He gestures to the room around them filled with light. “Kind of looks like heaven to me. There’s even an angel here.”

This time, Koushi blushes and huffs at Kageyama. “Hush, you,” he grumbles without any true annoyance.

“Seriously, Suga-san,” Kageyama insists. “Every time I see you, you look better. Healthier. I…it gives me hope for Oikawa-san.”

Koushi’s smile never fades but his brows pinch just enough for Kageyama to know that he’s deeply saddened. “You’re alive and well, too, Kageyama,” he says. “I’m so grateful for that.” It seems strange, the tone of voice Koushi uses. Kageyama puzzles over it for a minute. His head is unusually quiet, not like it normally is with…with…

Kageyama pales.

“Oh my god,” he croaks, feeling his lips move but not hearing the words coming out. “ _Oh my god_.” The panic is somewhere separate from him, as distant as an out of body experience, but Kageyama can feel it coming to crash down around him.

“ _Kageyama_ —” Koushi starts, but Kageyama can’t hear him.

 _How could I have forgotten about Hinata? What the hell is going on? **Where is Hinata. Where is Hinata.** Not again not again I don’t want to lose/be parted/separated __from Hinata no no **no** …Just like the attack it’s **just like** the attack he’s **gone** (like all of them again he’s gone) I can’t feel him oh god oh **god** , **Shouyou where are you**_ —

Koushi pulls Kageyama’s upper body into a warm, tight embrace, shaking him from his thoughts and the unconscious spasms of his hands. Koushi’s heartbeat is frantic and he’s squeezing Kageyama too tightly, but he’s _there_ and Kageyama finds he can form words again.

“Where is he, Suga-san.” Not a question, a demand. Not an ‘is he okay?’ or an ‘is he even alive?’ because Kageyama refuses to exist in a world where Hinata does not. He is _alive_.

“He’s stable, Kageyama. He’s a few rooms down, resting. Chikara would have put you in the same room, but…he was in very critical condition and Chikara figured I would be the best at breaking the news to you, when you woke.” Koushi’s voice is soothing and his hands rub Kageyama’s back comfortingly, calming him down.

“It’s _wrong_ , though, Suga-san,” Kageyama whispers. “I can’t feel the Ghost Drift at all. It’s like he’s—” Kageyama breaks off.

“He’s not dead,” Koushi assures him, sitting back. “You…you would know.” Kageyama is sensitive enough not to acknowledge the heaviness in Koushi’s voice.

“He’s on neurodrugs right now,” Koushi explains. “The same stuff I was on. It’s just a precaution, but considering the strength of the hivemind and the connection between it and Hinata, we wanted to ensure that the scar would close. And so that, should Hinata be unable to block the Precursors, it wouldn’t affect you as well.”

Koushi touches his dogtags anxiously when he mentions the neurodrugs and Kageyama catches him at it, watching as he runs fingertips over the surface of the tags almost obsessively. Kageyama swallows. He didn't know Koushi still wore them.

“It feels less like I’m missing a chunk of my soul,” Koushi explains, noting Kageyama’s eyes on his tags. “It’s kind of like a fallback since I’m off the neurodrugs. I have withdrawals and it helps to have something _physical_ to hold onto.”

They’re quiet for a moment. Kageyama chews his bottom lip, but he knows this is something he has to ask. “Suga-san…” he starts slowly, and Koushi hums in acknowledgement. “Hinata…before we were recovered from Omega…my memories are really blurred…”

“That’s understandable,” Koushi says, just a little too quickly. “You’re still getting over the Drifting sickness that affected you since the connection was cut so suddenly.”

“No, but…I mean, yes, I know those are the side effects, but…Hinata said he couldn’t feel his legs.” Kageyama sucks in a breath. “Do you…do you know anything about what happened to him? Do you know what that kaiju did to him?” It’s not an accusation—it’s a genuine question. Koushi freezes.

 _It’s okay, Koushi,_ he thinks. _It’s okay, you’re safe here and there are no kaiju coming and Hinata is fine._

“Suga-san?” Kageyama prompts, and he snaps out of it.

“Yes! I mean, no, I don’t know his prognosis. Chikara didn’t share that information with me,” he babbles. “I’m sorry, Kageyama.”

Kageyama sinks back into himself, pulling his knees to his chest and resting his forehead against them. He exhales shakily. “Hinata sounded so scared,” Kageyama mumbles. “I’ve never heard him sound so scared.”

Kageyama swallows. “He sounded…he sounded like _you_ , Suga-san, and for a second I thought—I don’t even know what I thought.” He looks up and into Koushi’s eyes, like his old mentor could give him all the answers he needed. “He’s _Hinata_. He’s a reckless idiot and brave to the core of his being. He should never sound that scared.”

Koushi doesn’t realize he’s crying until he feels warm trails crawling down his cheeks, the salt almost burning acidic. He immediately climbs onto the hospital bed with Kageyama and wraps his arms around him, pulling him into his chest. “Oh, Kageyama…” he murmurs. “Hinata is still alive. You know that as long as he lives, he’ll fight his way to recovery and beyond. You have nothing to fear.”

“’S my fault,” Kageyama whispers. “I should have never let it get that far. Should’ve shut the plan down the moment the Marshal asked my opinion.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Koushi says sternly. “There was no way for you to know, not even Kuroo and Kozume knew.”

Kageyama jolts in Koushi’s arms. “What happened to them?” He asks, keeping his voice carefully neutral.

Koushi kicks himself mentally. “Shouldn’t have said that.”

“ _Suga-san_.”

“Fine, fine,” Koushi sighs. “I don’t know much about Kuroo, but I know Kozume has been down here a lot. Actually…I don’t think they’ve left since they first came down here two days ago. They’ve been keeping Hinata company while he’s asleep, talking to him nonstop.” Koushi braces himself for Kageyama’s inevitable wrath. _After all, wasn’t it Kenma who had talked Hinata into Drifting with a kaiju?_

But Kageyama just slumps against Koushi in _relief_. “Thank god someone is there for him,” he whispers. At Koushi’s noise of surprise, he glances up. “I know Kozume-san never meant Hinata any harm. I heard the words they didn’t say when they assured me that they would be putting Hinata’s safety first—they are someone immensely important to Hinata and someone who cares for him as much as I do.”

“It’s really not your fault though, you know,” Koushi says. “It’s the kaiju that did this. All any of us are trying to do is survive.”

“I know,” Kageyama says in a small voice. “I’m just sick of feeling so helpless all the time. Even with Hinata, me, and Tyrant Omega combined we weren’t able to beat the kaiju. Even though each base has more than one Jaeger, they still fall in battle. How can we win against odds like those? It just seems like this is a war for more time, not for victory.”

Koushi squeezes Kageyama’s shoulder, but there’s nothing he can say. Kageyama had voiced all his thoughts and feelings of helplessness and worthlessness perfectly. For each step forward they take, it seems there are three giant leaps backward in progress. The kaiju never _stop_ , an infinite stream of terror and death, but the Jaegers _are_ limited—they can only build so many so fast. And if finding viable pilots, let alone good ones, was difficult when Koushi was still part of the main team, then now with him and Hinata out of commission it has to be hell. Even now, Koushi can't find the words to heal his wounded kouhai and soothe him in the event that his partner might very well never recover again. Koushi grits his teeth.

“ _Suga-san!_ ”

The door to their room flies open and both Kageyama and Koushi jump. Kinoshita is breathing heavy and wild-eyed. He takes note of Kageyama and nods sharply. “Good, Kageyama; you’re up too. Both of you come with me. It’s urgent.”

Koushi rises to his feet, giving Kinoshita a perplexed look. He holds out a hand to Kageyama, helping him to his feet. Kageyama only wobbles a little, unsteady on his feet after just recovering from his illness. “What’s the emergency, Kinoshita?” Koushi asks.

“Just come with me,” he says impatiently, but giving Kageyama a careful once-over to make sure he is well.

Koushi catches the once-over and scowls. “Kageyama just woke up—”

“So did Hinata,” Kinoshita blurts. “Please, he’ll want to see—”

But Kageyama is already eight steps ahead of them, breaking from Koushi’s arms to stumble desperately out the door, Koushi rushing to catch him as he falters and assist his single-minded desire to reunite with his partner, while Kinoshita jogs ahead, directing them.

 

\-------------------------------------------

 

The world, Hinata thinks, really ought to not be spinning so damn much.

He squeezes his eyes shut a moment after he tries to open them and sees fluorescent lights whirling like a carousel of bright stabbing pain. All his senses function in an unusually thick fog, like coming to after having been in the middle of a dream. Hinata’s not quite sure what part of the world is real or a dream, but he does know that being awake isn’t worth it. He slumps back from where his shoulders had tensed in a vain attempt to fall back asleep.

It’s useless though—there’s some incessant _noise_ around him, far away as the ocean in a seashell, but becoming clearer with every second Hinata is awake. The blissful ignorance of unconsciousness is replaced by the sharpness of reality, and Hinata groans audibly, feeling the sound rumble past his lips. Silence reigns for a second, then the noises increase in excitement, grating across Hinata’s eardrums. Despite his best attempts _not_ to, Hinata’s brain sets about deciphering the sounds.

He picks up a voice he recognizes faintly from some dim memory of what feels like the far past. A doctor…Ennoshita? Yes, that’s the one. He’s the most prominent of the voices, and Hinata feels mild irritation. Ennoshita should know better than to talk so loudly—he will disturb the hospital patients. Hinata prays in vain for one of the nurses to tell him to calm down before he wakes up someone who is seriously injured and trying to heal.

As for Hinata, he figures he might as well wake up, since the stimulus isn’t going to allow him to keep on sleeping. It occurs to him faintly that he has no idea _why_ Ennoshita is anywhere near him, since Hinata doesn’t remember wandering in the direction of the hospital, let alone falling asleep there. He can’t really remember how he fell asleep in the first place, or where he is. Suddenly, he has a new reason to open his eyes and look around.

Hinata cracks his eyes open, letting them adjust to the light, although his vision still swims and he feels woozy and drunk. It’s rather annoying, actually. His head clears a little and he identifies a blob moving restlessly around him as Ennoshita. He’s lying down on a bed of some kind. Actually, it really does look like the hospital. What the hell is Hinata doing here?

He opens his eyes completely, suffering through the light to better take in his surroundings. He props himself up on his elbows and experiences a wave of intense vertigo that makes him groan unpleasantly and nearly fall back. There are hands on him immediately—Narita’s—and a soothing voice telling him to take it easy. Hinata opens his mouth to ask why the hell he has to take it easy, but his tongue is a weight in his mouth and he makes another unintelligible moaning noise. He twists from Narita’s hands, agitated at being treated like an invalid and a child. His body is unnaturally heavy, and now Hinata feels some irritation to go along with the confusion.

“Hinata,” Ennoshita says, his voice official enough to still Hinata’s half-hearted flailings. "Shh, take it easy soldier." There's something clear and plastic--a cup--being offered to him, pressed against his lips. Hinata manages to part them and Narita tilts the cup, allowing Hinata to slurp up some of the water. His throat feels like cotton. Just drinking feels like a triumph.

His eyes turn to Ennohita. “Do you know where you are?” Enooshita asks. 

Hinata manages to shake his head, just enough for Ennoshita to sigh softly. “You’re in the Miyagi base’s hospital. You’ve been asleep for three days.”

It’s hard work, but Hinata manages to sit up. He feels dizzy, and the wave of vertigo brings nausea with it, but Hinata fights it down, fixing Ennoshita with his most professional stare. “Why--?” Hinata croaks. His brain can't spit out the the rest of the words. He wants to ask, _why am I here what happened_ , but his mind is swimming and his body is so, so tired and achy.

Ennoshita writes something down on a clipboard in the illegible scrawl of a doctor. “I promise I'll answer all your questions in a moment,” Ennoshita says soothingly. "Right now I need _you_ to answer a few questions to the best of your ability. Speaking may be difficult for a while. All you need to do is nod or shake your head."

"I can talk," Hinata says, but it comes out with none of the vowels. He frowns.

"Don't push yourself too hard," Ennoshita says. "There's a lot going on in your system. This is all normal."

Yeah, well it didn't _feel_ normal to Hinata. He doesn't stop frowning, but nods.

"How are you feeling?" Ennoshita asks.

Hinata ruminates on that question for a long moment. Then, slowly, putting all his focus into speaking, he says, "Fine. Groggy."

Ennoshita gives him a genuine smile. “You can’t imagine how happy I am to hear that,” he murmurs mysteriously. “Now, you said you feel groggy, anything else?”

“Mmmm…a li'l achy,” Hinata replies. “Sore everywhere. Kinda nauseous, I sat--” He pauses. Frowns harder. Where was he going with that?

"From sitting up, I understand," Ennoshita says. "To the point of vomitting." Head shake. "Headache?" Nod with a shrug.

“Any pain aside from that?” Ennoshita asks. "Something sharp, other than the aches you've mentioned?"

“No…” Hinata says, but frowns. “Everything's kinda muted? M'senses and emotions, a little. Is that…is that bad?”

“Oh, that’s a completely normal side-effect,” Ennoshita explains. “You’re on some pretty strong painkillers, muscle relaxers, and neurodrugs right now.”

Hinata stares at him. “Painkillers?” He repeats in a small voice. “Neurodrugs? Like...Suga-san?”

“…Yes,” Ennoshita admits, at length. “They’re for your injury.”

“My injury…” Hinata’s mind is completely blank. He tries to remember if he got hurt, but he can’t come up with any answers. Fear tries to grip at Hinata’s gut, but the adrenaline rush doesn’t even _feel_ like fear, and something is _very_ wrong. “Ennoshita-sensei…what...happened?” Hinata whispers.

Ennoshita bites his lip. “How much do you remember about the drop, Hinata?”

“The drop? A mission?” But even as the words leave Hinata’s mouth, flashes of memory come back to him, ripping like the slash of talons against his mind. Bokuto’s laugh. The cry of a kaiju. Inky black separating him from Kageyama, and in the end, when he reached for help, the inky black swallowed him. He remembers a great and all-consuming pain, but in a separate way, like it happened to another person. He remembers hot lava searing and bubbling out from his nose and his ears and the effort of his body to turn itself inside out to get away from _them_ , from the awful, inescapable—

“Ennoshita-sensei,” Hinata says calmly. “Why can’t I panic? There's adrenaline, but...I don' feel it.”

Ennoshita swallows thickly. “The neurodrugs,” he replies. “We put you on them because we needed to close down your neural connections with anyone and anything that could threaten the human race. We…we still don’t know if your connection to the Anteverse is closed.”

“It’s not,” Hinata says softly, exhaling. “Never will be.” There’s a moment of stunned silence between Ennoshita and Narita.

“I can…contain it,” Hinata says. “Kenma can do it. Can still Ghost Drift. Just have to work harder.”

“How large is it?” Ennoshita asks. “Can you tell?”

Hinata takes a shuddering breath. “Big. Don' trust myself...need the drugs. But...there's 'nother reason, right, Ennoshita-sensei?”

Ennoshita shifts uncomfortably. “Your injury,” he confesses quietly. “We were afraid that if you panicked from your memories, you might agitate your injury.”

Hinata’s eyes fall from Ennoshita’s to the sheet-covered lower half of his body. He runs an experimental hand over the top of his thigh and his breath catches in a ragged gasp when the sensation barely registers. When he looks up again, it is not as a soldier, but as a twenty-two year old boy scared to death. “My legs?” He whispers. “What’s wrong with...?” His voice catches and breaks off, the fog threatening to swallow him again.

Ennoshita swallows, throat tight, but schools his voice and expression into something professional. “We don’t know exactly what the cause was for your injury. We think that the kaiju used the neural bridge between you to access your nervous system and launch an attack on it, vicious enough to have physical repercussions.”

“My prognosis?” Hinata asks in a tiny voice.

“We salvaged what we could,” Ennoshita says helplessly. “We stopped the damage spreading, but…you’ve—you’ve sustained considerable nerve damage from the waist down, Hinata. Your motor nerves were lacerated, along with many sensory nerves. Even with surgery, there's little chance of recovery. You’ll retain some sensation in your waist and thighs, but no movement. I’m sorry, Hinata. You won’t be able to walk again.”

Hinata blinks at Ennoshita almost owlishly. “Okay,” he says calmly. “Is that all?”

Ennoshita sputters. “Is that all? Hinata, that’s a very serious injury, you do realize that, right?”

“I—I’ll be okay,” Hinata says, voice wavering a little. “Could be worse. I’ll get better.”

Hinata’s eyes are bright but too wide, the light in them forced. Ennoshita recognizes it as denial almost immediately. A self-defense mechanism to protect Hinata from the truth—but he is still stroking his leg feverishly, his heart rate elevated and breathing audible. His fingers spasm. _Fuck,_ Ennoshita thinks. He’s seen this in veterans who lost a limb, in partners who couldn’t find their other half across the Ghost Drift, but he never wanted to see it in someone so young. _Fuck, fuck, fuck._

“That…is the only injury you sustained,” Ennoshita says. “However, until you’re able to close or at least control that connection to the Anteverse, you won’t be able to Drift with Kageyama. Ghost Drift, that is.” He doesn’t mention Tyrant Omega.

“Kageyama is fine, then?” Hinata asks hopefully.

“Nothing more than some Drifting sickness,” Ennoshita reports, grateful to finally have some good news. “And actually, there are some visitors to see you, if you’d like.”

Hinata’s hand clenches in the sheet. “That’s…” He begins, distant. “Who are they?” He asks finally.

Ennoshita stands up and walks to the door, opening it and calling down the hall for the visitors to show themselves in front of the window looking into Hinata’s room. Hinata flinches as Kenma barrels past the window and nearly shoves past Ennoshita with a desperate cry of “ _Shouyou!_ ” Ennoshita curses but holds Kenma back from getting at Hinata.

“Shouyou, please let me explain—” Kenma says desperately.

“Calm your ass down! He just woke up!” Ennoshita snarls, but he doesn’t need to. The fight goes out of Kenma’s body after their voice cuts off.

Ennoshita looks to Hinata, and is met by a look of soul-deep sadness piercing through Kenma’s urgency. Even on the neurodrugs, Hinata’s pain upon seeing Kenma is palpable.

Hinata looks away from Kenma, ignoring the half of his body that screams to call Kenma to his side and hold them in his arms. There are still too many unanswered questions and too many feelings of betrayal associated with his dear friend for Hinata to see them right now. “Kageyama only...in private, please,” he murmurs. Hinata doesn’t see the look of despair on Kenma’s face when Ennoshita gently shoves them from the doorway.

Kageyama comes in alone, looking as sickly and pale and anxious as Hinata feels. He draws the curtain across Hinata’s bed so that they won’t be seen by outside observers. The curtain darkens Hinata’s hospital room, a dreary and hollow mirror of the bright room Kageyama woke up in. Hinata’s window is shut tight, and a passing cloud casts the room in dull light. Hinata looks just as bleached of color and strength as the rest. Whereas he used to throw out an air of power and charisma that made him seem bigger than he was, now Hinata looks his actual size—a tiny boy swallowed by the sheets of his bed. Kageyama sits at his side.

“Hey,” he says softly.

“Hey,” Hinata replies.

Kageyama doesn’t know how to do this. Hinata is so _small_ in this moment, so fragile. He’s not the wild creature Kageyama knows and he doesn’t know which rules apply when Hinata is this vulnerable. He doesn’t know if he’ll bring his partner closer to him or tear him apart if he’s gentle. Kageyama is clumsy with words at best, but more than ever, he wishes for the gift of poetry.

“Are you okay?” He asks, voice as small as Hinata looks.

“Yeah,” Hinata says. “Not gonna die or anything.”

“No, I know that…I mean, are you _okay_? Emotionally?”

A shrug. “I guess.”

“Sensei said you’re on some pretty heavy stuff.”

“Mhmm. Painkillers, muscle...relaxers, neurodrugs. M' tired and foggy. Can't...can't speak.”

Kageyama doesn't know what to do with that. Even speaking is sapping the energy from Hinata. He feels like he's looking at a different person, someone inside the Hinata he once knew. He doesn't know what to say, so he says, “…They giving you good food?”

“I just woke up,” Hinata says with some exasperation. “I don’t know.”

There’s a moment of silence, awkward and heavy hanging over them, casting the room in even more shadow, before Kageyama decides _fuck delicacy_. He launches himself across the bed to pull Hinata bodily into his arms, digging his hands into the cheap fabric of Hinata's hospital gown and his red hair. Kageyama turns his head to press his face into Hinata’s temple, inhaling deeply and exhaling so shakily it’s almost a sob. Hinata gasps at the sudden movement, but doesn’t fight Kageyama’s embrace. He squeezes Kageyama back, but it's weak and shaky. Frustrating. He buries his face in the warm, familiar shoulder of his other half.

The embrace is safe and warm, and when Kageyama goes to pull back, Hinata clings tighter, holding onto Kageyama for dear life. Kageyama doesn’t even laugh or get mad or _anything_ —he scoots closer to ease the strain on Hinata’s arms and drags his fingers along his scalp, rubbing the strands between his fingers like he can’t believe Hinata’s here and real.

“ _Shouyou_ —” He croaks brokenly. “Shouyou, I’m here—god, I’m here now, I’m never leaving you. It’s okay, it’s okay; we’re alright—we’re here now.”

Hinata hiccups a sob of relief and pushes Kageyama back so he can take Kageyama’s face in his hands, running thumbs over the planes of his cheekbones and fitting his palms to Kageyama’s jaw. He traces fingers along Kageyama’s furrowed brows and down his nose to rest two fingers on his lips, and it’s then that Hinata has to laugh, a bubbling, sickly sound choked by mucus in his throat, but a laugh nonetheless. “You’re all here...in one piece,” he stutters. “Even your stupid, regal nose. I always thought you had such a...such a stuck-up, aristocratic nose…”

“You have no idea how infinitely, _infinitely_ glad I am to see that you’re alive,” Kageyama rasps. “When I woke up and I couldn’t find the Ghost Drift, I thought…” Hinata’s hands fall from Kageyama’s face to hold him as Kageyama collapses against his shoulder, his exhales tickling across Hinata’s collarbones. “When you didn’t even recognize me back there—there was _so much blood_ —and I could feel your strength leaving your body—”

“I know,” Hinata whispers. “I know.” He touches Kageyama’s back now, his arms, memorizing the way he looks and feels and sounds and smells. Kageyama’s body shakes, barely noticeable, but there. Hinata feels worry prick at the back of his mind, but he can’t even fully _feel concern_ because of his fucking medication. He remembers that Koushi weaned himself off of them without even seeking Ennoshita's consent, and he feels a sense of kinship with Koushi. He hates this feeling.

There’s a tickling at the edge of his consciousness, too. It’s not unpleasant, exactly, but insistent enough to catch Hinata’s attention. He feels how close Kageyama presses against him and understanding settles in. “Kageyama…” He murmurs. “I can’t Ghost Drift, not yet.”

“I know that,” Kageyama sighs. “But I can’t help it. I just keep searching for you. It’s not even a wall, Shouyou—you’re just _gone_.”

“You called me Shouyou again,” Hinata says, a smile playing at the edge of his lips. He’s not sure if it’s an accusation, an observation, or teasing. Maybe all three. Regardless, Kageyama’s ear tips go pink.

“It’s—it’s—you fucking nearly _died_ and you’re harassing me about _names_?” Kageyama sputters, defensive. He sits back up to glare weakly at Hinata who smiles for real.

“ _Tobio_ ,” he murmurs. “It’s _fine_.”

Somehow Kageyama’s hand has entangled itself with his.

“We’re partners,” Hinata says.

“We’ve always been partners,” Kageyama returns, but he hasn’t blinked or looked away from Hinata yet.

“No—well, yes—but…” Hinata squeezes his hand unconsciously. “We’re…we’re _partners_.” Kageyama sucks in a breath, and Hinata looks away from him. Something like shame grapples at him, and he doesn’t lessen his grip on Kageyama’s hand. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “After all we’ve done...how far we've come…I’m useless to you now.”

“What,” Kageyama growls, not truly a question, but disbelief tinged with anger. The fact that Hinata can read all these little details about Kageyama without the aid of the Ghost Drift is a testament to how far they’ve come, and it saddens him. “What are you _talking_ about, who said th—”

“They didn’t,” Hinata interrupts, “and that’s how I know it’s bad. Tobio, I can't Ghost Drift with you _months_ until...the scar..." He takes a breath. "Can't risk the Anteverse... and they didn’t even fucking—Omega, they didn’t even say— _fuck_ …” Hinata trails off as tears blur his vision, even without the aching pain he knew would be shredding his chest if he could feel emotions properly. His body fells like shit, he can't concentrate, he can't even string more than three sentences together at a time without feeling light-headed.

He swipes at them viciously. “My legs aren’t just hurt, okay, they’re done. Completely damaged. I’m not gonna wake up and--and walk out of here, let alone get in a Jaeger,” he concludes miserably. “I’ll never fight alongside you again.”

“I won’t pilot without you,” Kageyama says, stony. “I can’t, anyway. You said that I could, before the drop, but you’re wrong. My mind won’t accept any other connection, I can tell.”

“You _have_ to!” Hinata cries out. “If you don’t, everyone will die! The general is _coming_ ; you need to sync with another--another pilot! You have to fight!”

“Then I will with you!” He snaps. “Just because Ennoshita-sensei didn’t say anything about Tyrant Omega doesn’t mean—”

“Fucking _hell_ , Tobio!” Hinata snarls, smashing his other hand against the bed with a _bang_. “Can’t you see I’m a fucking _cripple_?” He rips off the bedsheets to expose his useless, _useless_ legs and drives his nails into the skin, dragging his hand up his thigh and leaving deep red marks across his skin.

“Stop!” Kageyama yells, ripping Hinata's hand away and catching both his wrists in his hands. “Don’t hurt yourself! God, Shouyou.”

“Does it really even matter?” Hinata asks bitterly, smile twisted on his face. “I can’t feel a damn thing.” They both look at the ugly scratches, a few pricks of blood beading up where Hinata had dug in extra hard. “Doesn’t hurt,” he whispers, voice trembling.

“You stay here and don’t you dare fucking _touch_ yourself,” Kageyama hisses. “I’m getting some disinfectant.” He stands up from the bed and stalks away, around the curtain. Hinata doesn’t have the heart to make a joke about how he couldn’t go anywhere even if he wanted to. He doesn’t have the energy to do anything, really. He slumps back against the pillows and squeezes his eyes shut, letting the neurodrugs work their magic and make him numb.

It takes him ages to recognize the faint sensation of touch at the top of his thigh. Hinata blinks his eyes open to find that Kageyama is kneeling at his bedside, scowling and finishing up cleaning the top of the scratches. “I’ll never walk again,” Hinata mumbles. “I’m of no use to anyone. I can’t pilot Omega if I can’t stand...even _you_ can’t argue with that. I won’t get to feel him again, or be one with you, or—”

“Stop it,” Kageyama pleads, in a much softer and frailer voice than Hinata expected. “You’re not—you’re not _useless_ , okay, not to me. When you say that, I just… _shit_ —” He squeezes his own eyes shut, hiding the shine Hinata definitely saw. Kageyama turns his head into Hinata’s thigh, hand fluttering over Hinata’s leg like he doesn’t know where to put it. “You’ll never be fucking _useless_ , Shouyou,” he stutters, voice too high-pitched and strained, barely keeping his composure.

“Kage—Tobio, look at me,” Hinata asks weakly. “Please.”

For a second, he thinks Kageyama won’t. But then Kageyama turns his head to the side, just a little, and Hinata can see the raw, redness around his eyes, the wetness on his cheeks and lingering just a little on his eyelashes. He sniffles loudly and wipes his nose on his sleeve, closing his eyes almost immediately after looking at Hinata, and Hinata watches, heartbroken, as another tear trails down his face.

“It’s not fair,” he rasps. “It’s not fucking _fair_ —out of all of us, every pilot on this base—you’ve worked the hardest. You spat in the face of your odds and you just kept _pushing_ —you even pushed _me_ out of the way. Like, in what universe is any of this _fair_? You don’t deserve this—this—”

“No one deserves this,” Hinata whispers, but his lips are trembling, too.

“Yeah, but you _really_ don’t deserve this,” Kageyama argues, sitting upright so Hinata can see all the snot and the tears and pain his partner is in. Unbidden tears rise in Hinata’s eyes and spill down his cheeks. He touches them with wariness, like they were the tears of a stranger. They _feel_ like the tears of a stranger.

“Tobio—oh god.” Hinata tries to say Kageyama’s name, but the sound of his own hollow, broken voice shocks him and he clamps a hand over his mouth, soaking it in tears that won’t stop falling.

“No, Shouyou, don’t,” Kageyama says. He stands up only to climb into bed next to Shouyou and pull him into his arms. “Shit,” he whispers. “Oh god, you’re shaking, I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

 _For what?_ Hinata wants to ask. _What could you have done?_ But his mouth won’t open right and his throat is too stuffed full of cotton to get any words out, so he just clings tightly to Kageyama and doesn’t let go. His breaths are heavy and unbalanced, their erratic nature complemented by Kageyama's occasional wet sniff and the quiet, mournful tears that fall. They hold each other like if they let go they’ll tumble off the edge of some huge, unseen cliff. Maybe not a literal cliff, but the edge of despair or loss or mourning, the only thing keeping them above any of those things being each other. On the tiny, one-person hospital bed, two people attempt to fuse their bodies into one.

“I won’t do it,” Kageyama murmurs. “I don’t care what you or the Marshal or anyone says. I’m not piloting with someone else. _You_ are my partner. I don’t need a replacement.”

“Even if we never Drift again?” Hinata asks softly. “What if I can't heal the scar? Are you really willing to give that up, to live alone in your head, for the rest of your life?”

“I don’t care, Shouyou,” Kageyama insists, pressing their foreheads together and looking Hinata in the eyes. “I don’t want the Ghost Drift. I want you.”

Hinata shudders and closes his eyes. But this is what it means to have a co-pilot, isn’t it? They might not have known it back when they stood at Omega’s base, snarling in each other’s faces, hurt and confused by each other, but they aren’t just co-workers. They aren’t just friends, or lovers, or soulmates. They are all of that and more. And that means becoming each other’s strength, too. Hinata just isn’t used to being the one who had to rely on Kageyama.

“Don’t you dare let me go, then,” Hinata whispers back fiercely.

“Never,” Kageyama growls. He pulls away from Hinata then, just a little, so that he can readjust their positions, shifting Hinata to rest against his chest, curled up in his lap. Kageyama’s long legs press close against Hinata’s shorter, too-still legs and Hinata swears, just for a moment, that he feels Kageyama’s heat against his skin. Their hands intertwine again. Hinata feels safe, like this, Kageyama a castle around him, protecting him from the demons both outside his body and within his mind. It’s the first time since Hinata’s woken up that he actually feels like he can relax.

Ennoshita comes in to check on them, hours later, when he feels it’s safe enough to enter without disturbing any deep conversation. He peeks around the corner of the curtain and nearly slumps in relief at finding them breathing easily, fast asleep and tightly wound together. Whatever Kageyama did, he calmed Hinata down for the moment, and even better, talked him into sleeping. Ennoshita checks Hinata’s IV out of habit rather than necessity, then leaves them in peace. He will talk physical therapy with Hinata later, hopefully when he'll have gotten some non-drug-induced sleep.

Outside, sitting in a chair, hands still clasped tightly together, Kenma waits. Ennoshita feels a pang of sympathy for the pilot. There are some heavy feelings between them and Hinata, some history and hurt that won’t be easily pieced back together.

“Sorry, Kozume,” Ennoshita apologizes gently. “They’re sleeping now. Hinata won’t be having any more visitors today.”

Kenma nods and stands, bowing respectfully to Ennoshita. “Right,” they murmur, and then take their leave with slumped shoulders and silent footsteps. Ennoshita can’t think of any words of comfort to offer the pilot.

 _I fucked up, Shouyou,_ Kenma thinks as they turn their back on their dearest friend. _I wanted to tell you that. I wanted to say how sorry I am. I wanted to see you before I go off to war for the last time._

_Please, before I die, let me see you._

 

\-------------------------------

 

News that Hinata was conscious again spread like wildfire through the base so that by the time the Marshal had cornered Tsukishima, Yamaguchi, Bokuto, and Akaashi at dinner, they already knew and falsely assumed that was what he had come to talk to them about. What had been surprising to them was Koushi’s presence at the Marshal’s side instead of Takeda. Koushi had looked just as surprised as they did.

“Come with me,” Ukai had ordered, no nonsense. “We need to talk.” It was the kind of tone that got even Tsukishima jolting to his feet. Ukai led them to the Kwoon Room, not the ideal place for secrecy, but decent enough with Kiyoko as a sentry, hurrying along anyone who lingered too long. The confusion had made all the pilots restless, shifting and nervous, when Ukai began to speak. But as he explained his situation as a leader and the very real, very looming apocalypse, their bodies had stilled and focus sharpened on his voice and nothing more.

By the time he’s done with his explanation, there isn’t a pilot in the Kwoon Room who isn’t pale and wide-eyed at the news. Koushi lowers himself to the ground gently, a hand over his mouth. Ukai notices and winces. “I’m sorry you had to hear all that, Sugawara, especially given you were released today,” he apologizes. “But I know you’re looking after Kageyama for a while, and I needed someone to stand in for him.”

Koushi waves a hand. “No, no—don’t worry about me. I’ll…I’ll be fine. I’m not the one who has to…” He swallows and breaks off, but the ending of his statement is clear. _I’m not the one who has to go out and fight that thing_. The active pilots are deadly quiet, half in shocked fear and half in deep thought.

“Alright,” Akaashi says finally. “What’s the plan, then?” Everyone turns to stare at them.

“A…plan?” Ukai echoes distantly, like Akaashi had jumped too many steps ahead in how he had pictured the conversation playing out. Bokuto’s jaw hangs open.

“Keiji-san…” Tsukishima starts. “With all due respect, there isn’t a _plan_. Nothing like this has ever happened before—there’s no precedent. To make matters worse, we won’t have any additional help from outside bases since Kuroo-san and Kozume-san have soiled our base’s reputation. How exactly is the Marshal supposed to have a plan?” Tsukishima summarizes the absolute shitstorm their situation boils down to nicely. Yamaguchi winces at his bluntness.

“So you’re telling me you’re just going to sit back and watch? Give the other bases no warning?” They flicker their gaze around the room. “You’re just going to let this kaiju destroy the world?”

Bokuto groans. “No, Keiji, that’s not it. It’s not that we don’t want to help it’s just…” Bokuto holds out his hands placatingly. “We have no idea _how_ to. Even given the…what, three or four Jaeger teams we have? Even with everyone giving their all, how are we going to even make a dent in that monster?”

Akaashi looks mildly irritated. “Well, we have to develop a strategy and form of atta—”

Marshal Ukai clears his throat, cutting Akaashi off and drawing the attention back to him. “I’m not quite finished,” Ukai says quietly. “As you all can tell, this isn’t some garden variety kaiju we’ve got on our hands. I want you to understand that even with all the effort we put into fighting, we aren’t going to kill it.” The atmosphere goes cold and solemn.

“I’m not trying to scare you,” Ukai continues. “I’m just telling you the facts. This mission isn’t anything like other kaiju attacks. Our purpose will be to hold off and distract the kaiju long enough for the other PPDC bases to scramble their pilots and come up with a real, proper plan for killing the general. They’ll have nukes and international military aid at their backs—they’ll be able to take down this kaiju with millions of casualties instead of billions.”

He drags a hand through his hair. “That being said, it’s quite obviously a suicide mission. And because of that, I’m not declaring it a mandatory drop. You can back out if you want, go home to your families, try and warn as many people to move off Japan and as far from the Pacific Ocean as possible. Especially the younger pilots, I can’t force you to sacrifice your lives and still be able to live with myself.”

“And you’re telling me you’ll be able to survive _at all_ without our help?” Tsukishima snaps.

“Kei…” Yamaguchi murmurs, but he feels the indignant rage coiling hot in Tsukishima’s gut like it was his own.

“Stop treating us like we’re rookies,” Tsukishima continues, baring his teeth. “We watched Daichi-san die. We saw what happened to Suga-san. And what happened to Hinata. We’ve killed dozens of kaiju on dozens of drops so quit talking about us like we’re innocent children who need to be shipped off to a _shelter_.”

“We’ve walked through hell the same as anyone in this room,” Yamaguchi adds quietly. “Please regard us as fully-fledged members of our response team who want to help.”

There’s a pause after their outburst, and then Ukai lets out a whistle. “Honestly, I’m glad you said that,” he says gratefully. “I wanted to give you an out, but you’re right—I’m still thinking of you as kids when you’re soldiers. And besides, we need your help now more than ever.”

Tsukishima and Yamaguchi salute sharply. Ukai turns to Bokuto and Akaashi. “Are you in as well?”

“Of course,” Bokuto affirms, reaching over to squeeze Akaashi’s hand where their mind is humming with activity.

“That makes three teams,” Ukai says, but winces. “Hinata is…not going to get better. And I don’t think Kageyama will part with him easily. Sugawara, I hate to put this on you, but can you…?”

Koushi nods. “I’ll explain the situation to him. If he won’t do it, he won’t do it, but I’ll try to be as firm as I can about the critical nature of this crisis.” He climbs to his feet and walks out the door, making for the hospital with a nod to Kiyoko.

“Ittetsu is speaking with Kozume and the scientists currently in order to try to find any kind of weakness or strategy based on the nature of the kaiju,” Ukai explains. “But according to Kozume, we need Hinata’s insight, and most unfortunately, he probably won’t be able to provide any useful intel for over a month. We have no idea when this thing is going to strike, so we’re flying blind. Also,” he eyes Tsukishima, “my offer to contact your families still stands. Get them out of here if you can.”

 _Akiteru_. The thought is clear enough for Yamaguchi to hear it projected loudly across their link. Tsukishima is still, holding his poker face, but Yamaguchi feels his rising panic. _Akiteru can’t be moved easily_ , Tsukishima says too softly across the Ghost Drift. _How are they going to—_

Yamaguchi leans against his arm, sending out the most comforting vibes we can muster. _We’ll find a way,_ he thinks firmly. _We’re the protectors of the world, and the fall of our reputation has been kept in-house. They’ll make exceptions for us._ Tsukishima calms slightly, shifting against Yamaguchi.

“My family’s in England,” Bokuto says with a shrug. “They’re about as far from the Pacific Ocean as anyone can get.”

“And mine are all dead,” Akaashi says drily, turning to catch Tsukishima’s eye. “Kei, you should leave now. Call your parents and the hospital, try to get Akiteru-kun out of Japan as fast as possible. And take care of Tadashi, too. We’ll take care of any preliminary planning.” As per usual, Akaashi is the one with an immediate plan of action. They eye the Marshal with something akin to suspicion. “Ukai-san…” They begin, slowly. “Are you certain that there’s _no one_ who can lend us a hand outside of the base?”

Ukai drums his fingers on his arm, looking uncharacteristically anxious. “There is…maybe one favor I can call in,” he replies at length, but the look on his face says he’s not at all happy about it.

“We need all the help we can get,” Akaashi reminds him.

Ukai swears softly and pats his breast pocket, scowling. “Alright, I’ll make the call, you pushy bastard. Look, you’ve got me reaching for my pack and I quit four years ago.”

“There’s just one more thing,” Tsukishima interrupts. The other pilots and the Marshal look at him. He shifts uncomfortably in place, like he doesn’t want to say what he’s going to say. “You shouldn’t give up on Hinata and Kageyama. They’re the strongest of anyone here, and when they’re together, there’s nothing they can’t do. It’s annoying as hell, but it might be just the edge we need.”

“Don’t hold your breath for a paraplegic to pilot again,” Ukai warns.

“Don’t write off someone who has done nothing but exceed your expectations,” Tsukishima fires back.

 

\----------------------------------------------

 

Akaashi knows something’s up the minute Ukai dismisses them and Bokuto walks out with his back ramrod straight and movements stiff. Bokuto’s actions and movements always have an organic, flowing nature to them, complementing his light and effervescent personality. ‘Dejected Mode’ Bokuto also moves like water, dragging and slumping onto their couch or hanging off Akaashi. Even when he’s miserable, it still pours off him in a dramatic and somewhat charming way, making Akaashi smile despite themself and cook him his favorite food.

But now Bokuto has locked up his emotions, chained them inside his chest and away from Akaashi so that his partner can’t make heads nor tails of his feelings, can’t read him at all. It’s uncharacteristic of Bokuto to push Akaashi away like this, and Akaashi reaches out to him immediately.

“Koutarou?” They call gently.

“I’m sorry, Keiji,” Bokuto apologizes, slumping a little. “I don’t want you to worry, I just…I need to find Tetsurou. I have to—” He breaks off, shaking his head, and Akaashi feels a pang of pain not their own. They draw their extended hand back and nod. They hadn’t spoken to Kenma, either.

“Be gentle,” Akaashi says, but Bokuto doesn’t reply.

When Bokuto finds Kuroo, he looks as if he were waiting for Bokuto to stumble upon him all along. Sometimes, Bokuto found it hard to believe they didn’t have some kind of Ghost Drift of their own, given how many times they’ve found each other when they needed to and how deeply they understood each other. Maybe they understand each other a little too deeply, though. Kuroo’s eyes are sad.

The hallway they’re in is quiet—it’s a branch off the main passageway that not many staff have use for. It’s almost completely empty, which is a good thing, Bokuto thinks. Some animal instinct tells him this exchange isn’t going to be pretty. He stands a good couple yards away from Kuroo, still stiff with a combination of hurt, sorrow, and distaste that he had to do this at all. But Bokuto had to know, oce and for all.

“Evening, Kou,” Kuroo says cheerfully. “I assume Ukai-san has informed you of our current situation. We best be putting ourselves to work in order to get ready, huh?”

“Cut the crap, Tetsu,” Bokuto says dangerously soft. “This isn’t a joke.”

The false easiness and friendliness falls away from Kuroo’s stature and tone. The curled smile falls flat and the hands behind his head fall with it, leaving him slumped and smaller, intimidating presence muted. “I know that,” he murmurs. “You think I don’t?”

“Just once, please,” Bokuto says and _fuck_ his voice shouldn’t be trembling already, but this was _Tetsu_ —“Just this once, will you be honest with me?”

Bokuto doesn’t want that flicker of concern in Kuroo’s eyes, doesn’t want the fingers that twitch towards him in an aborted attempt to comfort, doesn’t want the way Kuroo’s lips part in surprise at the question. That’s the Kuroo he knew, or he thought he knew, and it was all just so confusing and Bokuto was so, so tired of being confused.

“Of course,” Kuroo says in a small voice. “Kou, I’m always—”

“Are you though?” Bokuto cuts him off, forcing himself to keep looking at Kuroo even as he feels tears swim at the edge of his vision and he feels hollow inside. “Back then, when you called me and Keiji to this base, to that meeting, were you really being honest? Did you seriously care about the wellbeing of the other pilots in that disastrous plan? Were you ever really even scared?”

Kuroo’s jaw drops, composure burning away. “What the _fuck_ , Kou? What the actual fuck, of course I was? Where the hell is any of this even coming from?” Kuroo raises his voice, a panicky lilt to it. His lower lip trembles.

“So you’re telling that everything that went down was within acceptable perimeters to you and Kenma? You were happy to fucking… _fuck_ …” Bokuto’s eyes burn and he feels the tears fall, finally blurring his vision so that he can’t see his best friend clearly. He welcomes it, a part of him whispering _I should have known, I should have never trusted…_ “Hinata is in the _h-hospital,_ Tetsu!” His voice stutters and Bokuto hates it, hates that he has to doubt Kuroo, hates that he ever crossed paths with him all those years ago in training, wild-eyed and mischievous.

“What the fuck,” Kuroo whispers, his voice breaking as he tears up, too. “Kou, how could you _ever_ fucking think I would…” He hiccups. “I’m sorry, okay? We didn’t know, I swear to god we never knew!

“Kou,” he sobs. “Kenma and I _didn’t know_ , how could we have ever known? Please, please you have to believe me—you think I want to see Hinata in the hospital? You think I want that promise snuffed out and impaired for life? Do think I _fucking_ wanted that, Kou?”

“You knew it was going to be dangerous!” Bokuto wails. “What, would it make it better if he _died_? What kind of risks were you going to allow?”

They’re shouting now, loud enough to scare away anyone who might disturb them. Bokuto shakes and his voice cracks, but Kuroo’s shaking _even more_ and they can’t even see each other anymore. The tears on Bokuto’s cheeks feel carved into his face and they _hurt._ Kuroo sniffs wetly, taking a shuddering breath, prepared to answer Bokuto, but Bokuto cuts him off.

“What if it had been Keiji and I in that situation,” Bokuto whispers.

“ _Don’t_ , Kou—”

“Would you still have taken those risks?” Bokuto presses, swiping angrily at tears. “Would you have been more cautious if we had been in Omega’s place? You would have, wouldn’t you? Hinata’s just a _kid_.”

“ _Fuck you!_ ” Kuroo roars, broken. “Fuck you, Koutarou! I was scared! I’m still scared! That’s why we did it! We had to! You fucking—you fucking _agreed_ with me!”

“Yeah? Well I’m scared too, Tetsu!” Bokuto snaps. “I’m scared for Keiji and I’m scared for myself and I’m scared for you and what you’ve become! You’re always on about the goddamn cause and saving the world, but what about the people you love? I agreed with you because I thought you cared about saving those things too!”

Kuroo’s hands fly to his face and he curls into himself, wiping at tears uselessly and hiding his face, his sobs, hiding any vision of Bokuto. His shoulders tremble with the weight of his gasping cries and Bokuto can’t just stand around anymore. He walks up to Kuroo, biting his lip to keep in the whimpers and sobs of his own, and reaches for Kuroo’s face, pushing his hands out of the way gently and cupping his cheeks.

Bokuto raises Kuroo’s face to look at him, red-eyed and wet, taking deep, frantic breaths. Bokuto shakes his head. “I know you, Tetsu,” he whispers brokenly. “I see you.”

“How could you,” Kuroo accuses. “How could you dare to ever say those awful things?”

“Because I know you,” Bokuto replies. “You have a pure heart—there is no evil in you, Tetsu. But you get blinded by your fear and you excuse the inexcusable by claiming it’s for the greater good. You can’t do that, Tetsu. This is more than Keiji and I ever signed on for. Don’t you see? It’s not just you and Kenma dying for the cause anymore—it’s everyone.”

They’re both too raw and scared to properly comfort each other, still aching and exhausted from the end of the fight, and when Bokuto draws back, Kuroo looks away from him and doesn’t reply. Bokuto, worn out and having said what he needed to say, leaves first, feeling as if he’d left a chunk of his heart behind.

Akaashi takes Bokuto into their arms the moment he walks through the door—rather, when he slumps through the doorway, falling onto Akaashi heavily enough that they both tumble back onto the ground and Akaashi has to kick at the door to close it. This—whatever _this_ is, whatever Bokuto _is_ right now—they don’t want anyone else to see. The Ghost Drift between them is wracked with emotion, unstable and dragging at Akaashi’s consciousness, heavy enough for them to wince.

They felt it the moment Bokuto laid eyes on Kuroo, the waves of sorrow and longing and betrayal and _fear_ swallowing up everything else. Akaashi felt every pang of their fight, every blow with words that took its toll on Bokuto. And now, with nowhere and no one else to turn to, it was Akaashi’s job to pick up the pieces, put Bokuto back together again.

Bokuto sometimes reminds Akaashi of the nursery rhyme Humpty Dumpty: he took a stand to become a wall, a protector barricading the kaiju from destroying everything he held dear, only to fall, breaking into thousands of pieces with every drop, unable to be put back together by any manner of doctor or scientist or friend. Only Akaashi or Kuroo could reassemble him into something that looked like and sounded like Bokuto Koutarou, yet was destined to be broken again and again.

It’s not until you really come face to face with a kaiju, pull apart its snapping jaws with all the horsepower you can muster from the arms of a robot, no stronger in that moment than a toy, that you learn true fear.

Akaashi doesn’t ask _are you okay_ or _did you sort things out with Tetsurou_ because they already know the answer without hearing a word. Bokuto shakes like a leaf, and his mind is a scattered, tangled mess of hurt and regret and innocent confusion because _he’s never fought with Tetsu before_. Bokuto, whose heart belonged to two, had lost one of his rocks.

Akaashi doesn’t say anything at all at first, just wraps Bokuto in their arms so that his tremors vibrate through Akaashi’s body, too. They draw fingers through his hair calmingly and pull his face into their shoulder. They wait for Bokuto, as they always have, because the key to understanding him was having patience. When he was ready, he would speak.

“Never fought with him before,” Bokuto whispers, a fragile sound. “We always—we never—”

“I know,” Akaashi murmurs back. “I felt you. I’m here now. You’re safe.”

“I didn’t mean to yell at him,” Bokuto sniffles. “I didn’t want to. I just—it was always the veterans before, you know? It was always one of the old dudes, never…never…”

“Never a child,” Akaashi finishes his thought.

“It was never _Hinata_.” Bokuto sucks in a deep breath. “Tsukishima’s right; they aren’t kids, but—but Hinata, you know? He just…in the simulator and around the base he was always _moving_ , always laughing and loud and they just _took that_ from him. I was right there and I couldn’t—” He breaks off, swallowing.

“To think Tetsu would just… _allow_ that to happen, to think that’s okay…I can’t accept it.” He sits back in Akaashi’s arms, face a mess. He rubs at his eyes half-heartedly, not doing much to recover his composure and instead just making his red-ringed eyes darker. He’s opening and closing his fists again, anxious and looking for something to grasp onto.

“It’s not a crime to be scared,” Akaashi says softly, and Bokuto jolts. He fixes them with wide eyes, but Akaashi isn’t even sure who he’s talking about right now. “Tetsurou was scared. You’re scared. Everyone who jumps into a Jaeger is scared, it’s what we do with that fear that matters.” They slip their hands into Bokuto’s and he holds them almost painfully tightly. Akaashi looks Bokuto in the eye, pressing their foreheads together. “Tetsurou turned his into a plan of action. You push yours below for the good of the entire team. I work mine out of me.”

“Optimism and cheer can only get a person so far,” Bokuto rasps and god, Akaashi’s heart just breaks. They hate this more than anything in the world, watching Bokuto break. He’s a true leader, a _brave_ leader, and he’s not afraid to die. He’d lay his life down for his friends and never flinch if he had to. But it’s the kaiju that get too him, like they get to Asahi. It’s their terrible size and shape and ear-splitting roars that make Bokuto white-knuckled with fear.

(Akaashi remembers their first drop together, the way Bokuto eyes grew so wide and his breaths sounded staccato against their ears as together they broke its jaw before it could snap at their Conn-Pod. They remember Bokuto’s helmet, fogged from his breath, and the trembling of his knees that he chalked up to feeling unbalanced.

That was once. Now, they only find Bokuto shattered on nights when the moonlight is too strong and he sits up in their bed and tears at his hair, rocking back and forth; or on moonless nights when the dark is too great and Bokuto wakes with a shout, tearing himself from the grip of a demon only he can see, leaping out of their bed and pacing back and forth across the floor of their quarters until Akaashi can’t sleep either.)

“You can’t be strong all the time, Koutarou,” Akaashi says, the words sticking in their throat. “It’s okay to let go sometimes.”

And Bokuto goes boneless against him, not even shaking anymore, just letting the steady, soundless stream of tears soak Akaashi’s nightshirt. “I’m scared of them, Keiji. I’m scared of the ones that came, the ones that have yet to come, and the general. I’m scared to lo—” His voice cracks and he breaks off, picking back up in a whisper. “I’m scared to lose you and I’m scared to lose Tetsu. I’m scared for Hinata, and for Koushi, and for every person on this earth who doesn’t know what’s coming.

“We’ve lost so much already,” Bokuto whimpers. “I’m _terrified_ of losing anymore.”

Akaashi soothes him the best they can with soft words and gentle touches, but Akaashi’s fingers shake, too, and they wonder just how it ever got so hard to be strong.

Kuroo has no need for words or greetings when he steps into his quarters. Like Akaashi, Kenma knows everything before Kuroo steps into their bedroom, but unlike Akaashi, they feel it as a sticky, syrupy cloud between the two of them, their connection not the scrambled mess of Bokuto and Akaashi’s but fluid and cohesive. Pressure builds at the back of Kenma’s skull, a migraine growing with every thump of _weak afraid screwed-up weak afraid screwed-up_ pounding them across the Drift.

“Kuro,” they say calmly. “Stop.”

Kuroo can’t. He’s grappling at straws, running every detail of the conversation over in his head on repeat, fitting different words and new responses onto the memory like some horrible, remorseful jigsaw puzzle. He plays back just how Bokuto’s voice sounded, how the tears shimmered in his eyes, how trustless his stance was in facing Kuroo and it’s all too much for Kenma, let alone Kuroo.

“You’re torturing yourself, Kuro,” Kenma says, louder this time. “Self-punishment won’t bring him back to you.”

It’s an unusually barbed observation, sharp and bitter enough to snap Kuroo from his self-hating trance if only for a moment. He probes just a little into Kenma’s mind and is overwhelmed by the realization that _Shouyou, oh, Shouyou hadn’t forgiven Kenma either_ and all the fight leaves Kuroo’s body. He curls up tight against Kenma’s side, making himself as small as possible, as if by doing so he could erase himself from the world.

 _Koutarou, Koutarou, Koutarou_ … His mind grieves. Kenma runs a hand over Kuroo from the top of his head, down his neck and across the broad spread of his back, down to his hip, and back. They feel the line of their partner, the man they knew so well, and understands every strain of his body to erase the damage that had been done, each shiver that meant shame and regret.

“Oh, Kuro,” Kenma says softly, because there’s nothing else they can say or do, not more than this physical comfort, when they had both ruined something precious to them. “Oh Kuro.”

 

\-------------------------------------------------

 

Hinata doesn’t know what time it is when his eyes flicker open. The room is dark—night, this time, not storm clouds. The last time Hinata remembered closing his eyes was after dinner, before the sun had even set. Narita and Kinoshita weren’t hovering, which meant Hinata must’ve been asleep while they did a nightly check up on him. Hinata feels sluggish in his body but restless in his mind, his patience with his hospital stay waning. He arches his back to look over his shoulder at the clock on the wall. It’s 2 AM.

Hinata flops back with a sigh, fully awake now and body coming to life. He’s aware of the ache in his muscles and the urge to stretch—a task that was fairly difficult without the use of his legs, or so Hinata had been told. His usual morning routine, before this, had involved stretching his arms above his head and his legs out as far as they would go, until he felt the pleasant burn spread along all four limbs. He was also fond of the cat stretch and the way it popped his shoulders and reached all along his back. And now, he could only really do one out of those three things.

He’s slipping again.

It’s a trend Hinata’s been noticing lately, over the month and a half he's been here. Whenever he starts to think too hard about missing his legs and being unable to move them ever again in his life, a part of Hinata’s mind shuts down any thought about it, erases him back to zero frighteningly fast. In some ways, it’s a relief—he forgets, even if just for a short moment, that he’ll never walk again. But Hinata knows deep in his core that this line of thinking is _wrong_ and not protecting him but harming him. It’s not just the neurodrugs; it’s outright denial. He can’t accept the fact that this is his life when it all still feels like he’s waking into another dream.

No matter, either way, Hinata doesn’t necessarily need the nurses’ assistance to stretch himself out. Denial or not, injury or not, he can still sit up, twist his trunk, lean over to get a nice burn down his side and roll his shoulders. Hinata cracks his neck with a satisfying _pop_ and actually smiles. This wasn’t so bad. He licks his lips. Maybe he’ll get something to drink and then go back to reading that history book Kiyoko had lent him, the one about the first Jaegers. That one’s right by his bedside table, now the water bottle…ah, well the water bottle is over on the cart.

Hinata scrutinizes the water bottle. He really is thirsty—his mouth is dry from hanging open when he sleeps—and his throat kind of hurts. But…a cautionary swipe at the cart proves to Hinata that the edge is just a little too far for him to grasp at it. He can’t reach. Hinata drums his fingers on his arm. Well, he could always call the nurses, it was their job to—no. No, actually he can’t do that.

Hinata scowls viciously at the water bottle and turns away. He’s _not_ thirsty and he _doesn’t_ need anyone’s help. He’s not some kid to be babied, having to be spoon fed and treated as delicate just because he couldn’t—

Hinata nearly rips open the book, thumbing to the page he had been on last. He tries to read and distract himself from his desire for water that was just more of an annoyance than a need, really, he was going to be fine. But that’s not what keeps eating at him. It’s the thought that although the bottle is _right there_ , just another hand length away, he can’t get it. He can’t even do that tiny little thing for himself and he has to wait for Narita or Kinoshita to get up, walk to his room, and move the cart that one hand length closer so that he can get a sip of some damn water. _Fuck_ , he’s so angry he can’t even focus on his book.

He closes it with an eerie calm, gently setting the book back on his bedside table, then turns to the cart taunting him. _It’s not that far,_ Hinata tells himself. _All I have to do is just reach a little farther. One jolt of my body forward, that’s all it’ll take._ He scoots himself as close to the edge of the bed as he can and reaches out again, this time, his fingertips brush along the side of the cart, but instead of pulling it towards him, he pushes it just a little farther away. Hinata makes a noise of pure frustration and switches tactics, reaching with his other arm across his body for the cart.

It’s precarious—he has to balance his body on his side, and although that’s easy enough with legs to brace him, now he only has his other arm. Hinata pokes his tongue out the corner of his mouth and scrunches his brows in concentration. His fingers flutter at the corner of the cart, miss, and then finally catch on the corner. Hinata huffs happily. He curls them around the edge, stretching just a little farther…and feels his body tilt forward dangerously. Panicking, Hinata scrabbles at the cart, grabbing it for a heartbeat, and then being forced to release it as his body tumbled from the hospital bed to the hard linoleum floor.

There’s a clatter, a smack, and Hinata’s own voice swearing, then silence. Hinata’s shoulder aches where he fell on it, and he has a headache from smacking his head on the floor. Mostly, he’s stunned. Hinata manages to prop himself up on his elbows, dazed and making soft keening noises of pain. One of the monitors makes a high-pitched whine where Hinata had accidentally yanked off a sensor or something. The shock wears off and from his position on the floor, Hinata feels the hurt to his physical body fade and the hurt to his pride settle in.

 _What was that about not needing to be spoon fed? To be treated like delicately? Face it, Shouyou, you’re ruined._ No, no he couldn’t accept that, not yet, but it _hurt_ to think that he just had to sit here on the freezing ground to wait for the nurses to lift him back to safety and tut at him, tell him not to do things on his own. Hinata Shouyou, once so fiercely independent, now can’t even manage to get a drink of water on his own. It _stung_.

 _But you know what doesn’t sting?_ That horrible, tiny voice in the back of Hinata’s head continues, not giving Hinata a chance to recover some of his dignity and wounded pride. It doesn’t even need to finish the thought, though. Hinata knows. He looks down at his dead legs and bites down on his lip so hard that the taste in his mouth turns metallic and disgusting. _Yes, feel that pain, Shouyou. Pain is the proof of life. It’s something your legs will never know again._

“It’s not fair,” Hinata whispers, repeating Kageyama’s words from when he first visited. “It’s not fucking _fair!_ ” He screams the last part because it doesn’t matter, the nurses are already on their way, waking up and running to help Hinata; useless, _pathetic_ Hinata whose only skill now boiled down to falling out of bed and causing trouble for others.

He had gone from savior and hero of the people, carrying the burden of the survival of his species on his shoulders to nothing _but_ a burden, worthless dead weight that the Marshal had no business carting around but for respect of how he had served. _Served._ Past tense, because Hinata would never ride in a Jaeger again. He would never be able to feel Omega in his mind, possibly never see him aside from on television when Kageyama and his sparkly new co-pilot took to the field. Oh yes, of course Kageyama had said he would never leave him, but Kageyama would forget eventually, wouldn’t he? How embarrassing it would be to say that he wouldn’t pilot because he still wanted to be with that useless pilot, old what’s-his-name.

It didn’t matter how long Kageyama said he would wait for Hinata to heal the scar in his mind and becomes accustomed to his disability. The truth was that it would upset Kageyama’s way of life, and a healthy twenty-two year old wasn’t going to throw his life away to become a caretaker for someone like Hinata, even given their past together. Hinata was going to be _alone_ , useless and alone, returned home maybe, and left to die on the sidelines for his mistake.

Hinata really, really wishes he had died.

It would be better than this, wouldn’t it? This hopeless existence. He curls into a fetal position, wrapping his arms around his dead legs and pulling them into his chest so that he could squeeze his eyes shut and pretend they weren’t burning with freshly-formed tears. Why couldn’t the kaiju have just killed him? Why did the other pilots have to save him? Why would they ever force him to keep living as a dependent relying on the kindness of others to _survive_? What sort of curse was this?

“I just want to be dead,” Hinata whispers to no one. “I want to be dead and I want T-Tobio to be okay and I want my legs back and I want to kill every kaiju in every universe and I want to die, I want to die, _I want to die_ —”

He breaks off with a sob, rubbing at his legs and rocking back and forth on the ground, as if he could force life back into them. His eyes hurt from the tears spilling down his face, and the salt hurts his skin, and his head hurts from the fall and from crying, and, and…

And the gash in his mind is far too big to close, and Hinata doesn’t even know how to work a wheelchair, and _the general is coming_ , and Hinata doesn’t think the base is wheelchair accessible, and Natsu and his mom and his dad and Kageyama are _going to die_ …

And he’ll never be able to do things for himself ever again, and no one will talk to him about Drifting with Tyrant Omega or even Kageyama, and _god_ , he had just gotten Kageyama to see his real strength, had just started to take control of the Drift and actually prove that he was worth something, and it was all too much and just wanted to give up, give up, _give up_.

The quiet weeping shatters with a broken wail Hinata can’t control coming from his body. Where are Narita and Kinoshita? Maybe if he’s really good for them, he can talk them into slipping something into his tea the next morning to make him fall asleep and never wake up. There _has_ to be an escape, has to be a way to get out of this hell Hinata’s trapped in, there has to be _something_. Even a useless cripple like him could—

Something different in Hinata snaps.

Or maybe it’s just the sound of his spine snapping back into place from where it had been misaligned, leaving him a sniveling, cowering mess on the ground, wallowing in his own misfortunes. Hinata snarls around a sob, choking out the sound of misery with frustration. Angry frustration. Focused frustration.

Narita and Kinoshita burst in just in time to see Hinata smash his fist into the floor and howl “ _Damn it!_ ” at the tiles. They exchange nervous glances.

“Hinata,” Narita calls gently, soothingly. “Are you okay? Are you hurt or in pain—”

“Everyone’s hurt,” Hinata snaps, surprising both the nurses, but it seems to be directed not at Narita but at the world at large. “Everyone’s in pain. It’s not just me. I don’t have _time_ to waste, sitting here, wishing things could be better. Things aren’t better. Things fucking _suck._ This whole situation is bullshit. My legs are bullshit, the _kaiju_ are bullshit, but I don’t care about any of that anymore.”

Kinoshita sucks in a breath. “Hinata are you--"

Hinata pushes himself up onto his hands, giving one strong sniff and looking at the nurses with glorious fire in his eyes. “I’m done with crying and feeling sorry for myself. I’m angry and I’m going to fix this, I don’t care how. If I have to learn how to live without my legs, fine, I’ll do it. I don’t care. All I care about is getting better and becoming stronger. And you two are going to help me.”

“Us?” Kinoshita squeaks. Hinata nods sharply.

“Yes. Please tell Ennoshita-sensei that I’d like lower doses of the neurodrugs. I want to be weaned off them as fast as possible. And I want to start physical therapy first thing tomorrow morning.” Hinata grits his teeth. “I swear it. I _am_ going to get better.”

Narita gives Hinata a warm, knowing look. “With that attitude, you’re already halfway there to recovery.” He exchanges another glance with Kinoshita. “Uh, but first, can we lift you back into bed and make sure you’re not too bruised?”

 

\------------------------------------------------

 

Of course, it's not that easy. It's never that easy.

When Ennoshita hears that Hinata wants to lose the neurodrugs and start physical therapy, his only response is to raise an eyebrow. Hinata glares back at him, clear-eyed. "We'll start with the neurodrugs," Ennoshita says. "Starting physical therapy now is out of the question. You're still on such heavy medication that it would be inadvisable."

Hinata's jaw drops, then closes. A muscle in his jaw moves. "Then take me off all of them," he says petulantly.

"And have you lying on bed, spasming and moaning in pain?" Ennoshita says. "I don't think so." He sighs and sits next to Hinata on the bed. "I understand your eagerness. I'm glad that you're starting to get over your denial—that's one of the first steps to recovery. But just because you're getting there mentally doesn't mean you're getting there physically."

"I can do it," Hinata insists.

"You can't," Ennoshita says flatly. "You still think you're Hinata Shouyou, all your nerves intact and full of strength, fresh out of a Jaeger, but you're not. Your body has limits now, and you must respect those limits."

Hinata turns his words over for three days. Three days of clenching and unclenching his hands. Of cursing Ennoshita-sensei's stinginess. I'm fine, Hinata thinks. The rest of me functions. I'm still strong. I can be like I used to be. I can work around my legs.

"You'll work around your legs, huh?" Ennoshita says when Hinata tells him about his plan. "They're a part of you, you know," he says, quieter. "They won't go away, even if you ignore them. My advice is that you accept them as a part of you. You're looking at them as an obstacle, but it's not just your legs that have changed. You have changed. This disability is a part of who you are now. Please...think this over. It will take time, but...I believe you will be happier once you learn to accept that."

But despite Ennoshita's misgivings, he keeps his promise of taking Hinata off the neurodrugs, little by little.

It is hell.

Hinata wakes up in the middle of the night, screaming himself hoarse as he relives his trauma through a nightmare. He is covered head to toe in sweat, eyes blurred and unseeing, and shaking like a leaf. He can still see the impressions of the kaiju and its mind, feel the tearing, ripping sensation of the hole in his head, the Anteverse crawling on the other side. He cries and cries and cries as Narita and Kinoshita rush in to comfort him and hold him down until he stops seeing stars across his vision and instead sees the pocked ceiling tiles of the Miyagi base hospital.

For the next three weeks, Hinata spends his days glassy-eyed and clutching at his head. He can't stay awake for very long, and even when he's awake, everything is foggy. Kageyama and the others visit—he thinks—or maybe it's just their impressions, drifting in and out of his memory like ships in the night. In exchange for losing the neurodrugs, he gets a higher dose of painkillers. In his moments of greatest clarity, Hinata wonders if it was worth it.

He gets better. It's slow, but he gets accustomed to his emotions and the memories, raging and crashing in his head until he has a pounding migraine more often than not. The painkillers drown it, but he always feels when they wear off, the ache driving up into a crescendo of pain. The pain spreads to his neck and shoulders, too. His wrists. He feels sixty-four instead of twenty-four. The nightmares never stop, but at least he can wake without screaming, only sweating and shaking, eyes darting. On nights like those, he wishes for his family, for his mother to scoop him up and chase all his demons away.

It's not all bad. When he's conscious and clear-headed, he's always up for visitors. When he laughs, it's genuine, and it fills his chest. He'd never had such an appreciation of joy, or humor, or even longing before it was snatched from him by the drugs. He manages to smile at Suga when he changes out Hinata's flowers, too. They have something now—an empathy and an understanding. More than anyone else, Hinata feels connected to Suga, who assures him it will get better, he swears it will get better. He never says 'it will go away.’ Hinata, as much of an optimist as he is, knows he will never escape this trauma. The memory of the fight is a part of him, as much...as much as his disability.

He doesn't think about that much. He'd much rather focus on settling his emotions and reigning in his mind until he can forge it into something useable again, something that doesn't flinch at bright lights or loud sounds. Thinking about the fact that he will never walk again doesn't make him feel sad or angry, now that he can feel emotions again. He doesn't feel anything. He lets his mind drift off whenever he considers it, into blissful numbness.

The day Ennoshita completely removes the neurodrugs, Kageyama comes to visit. He brings lunch that has Hinata practically crying in joy. Kageyama sits at the food of his bed as they eat, rubbing Hinata’s foot.

“You can come see me at eight,” Hinata says. “That’s when the withdrawal will start to set in. It’s going to be a lot rougher than what you’ve seen.”

“I’ll be there,” Kageyama assures him.

Only, Hinata wasn’t lying when he said it was going to get rougher. He’s sweating by the time Kageyama arrives, wrapped in blankets because he complained of a chill, looking completely feverish. Ennoshita takes one look at Kageyama’s expression and shakes his head.

“It’s not as bad as it looks—I promise,” Ennoshita assures him. “He’s been on a relatively low dose recently, but coming off of neurodrugs in any situation will be an upset to the body’s balance. The physical symptoms of withdrawal will be gone after two weeks because of how low his dose is now. Emotionally, though…it’s going to get worse.”

Kageyama swallows. “Is it okay if I’m near him?”

Ennoshita nods. “It’ll be good for him. But if it gets to be too much, don’t be afraid to take a break. It may be distressing to watch, but Hinata is still Hinata. He can fight this.” There’s a certain kind of determination in Ennoshita’s eyes to, a will to make this work. Kageyama doesn’t know how many patients Ennoshita has seen fall to damage from the kaiju, but he imagines it’s more than he’s seen recover. He’s rooting for Hinata as hard as any of them.

“I’ll stay with him,” Kageyama says. “I promised.” He moves to Hinata’s side and catches his attention.

“H-Hi Tobio,” Hinata stutters out between chattering teeth.

“Hey,” Kageyama says. “How’s it going so far?”

“It’s…worse…and better,” Hinata admits. “There’s…there’s so much.”

“He probably won’t be able to talk to you much,” Ennoshita says. “It’s taking a toll on him.”

Kageyama shakes his head, looking at Hinata. “That’s fine, just focus on what you need to focus on.”

“Wanna focus on you,” Hinata says. “Keep talking to…me?”

Kageyama bites his lip. He’s really not too good with talking. It wears him out quite quickly and he never knows what to say, but…if Hinata needed it, he could try. “What should I talk about?” He asks.

“Anything,” Hinata sighs, body shuddering as he squeezes his eyes shut in concentration. “Good things, bad things; don’t care—I love your voice.”

“Okay,” Kageyama agrees, then, in a halting voice, he tells Hinata about his day, from waking up and nearly walking into the doorframe, to how the mess food sucks lately, to playing chess with Akaashi in their room.

True to his word, Hinata doesn’t respond much—maybe the occasional noise of surprise or amusement or acknowledgement—but he doesn’t talk. He talks Hinata all the way to sleep in the middle of explaining what Akaashi had explained to him about how chess was good for strategizing kaiju attacks, too. Hinata’s breathing is heavy and deep.

Kageyama looks up at Ennoshita. “Is that all I need to do?” He asks, blinking. That wasn’t very difficult.

Ennoshita’s face twists into a grimace. “I’d sleep if I were you. You can take the extra bed. Best to get a few hours in.”

Kageyama doesn’t understand what he means until Hinata wakes up screaming, thrashing wildly and unable to sit up, wailing in panic. Kageyama is out of bed and at Hinata’s side in seconds, pulling his partner upright and into his arms as quickly as he can, making comforting shushing noises. “Hey—hey, it’s alright Shouyou, you’re fine, you’re safe, it’s okay,” he murmurs and Hinata trembles.

“I’m crying,” Hinata says softly, puzzled.

Kageyama looks over his shoulder in alarm, but yes, tears were streaming down Hinata’s face faster than he could wipe them away. “I don’t even know—it wasn’t—so much grief. Loss,” he sniffles wetly. “Is that what—when the kaiju attacked me?”

“I don’t know,” Kageyama admits. “I was separated from you the moment it attacked your mind. It could be your own grief; it could maybe be mine when I thought you were dead. I’m sorry, I don’t know.”

Hinata shudders again. “You’re gonna stay with me?”

“Yeah,” Kageyama assures him. “Do you know how many of those you’re going to have a night?”

Hinata purses his lips. “Two or three. Less extreme…over time.” He shakes his head. “It’s gonna really suck.”

It does suck.

Kageyama more or less moves into Hinata’s hospital room to keep him company on the nights when he’s most susceptible to bouts of emotional turmoil, but that doesn’t mean it never happens during the day. The strangest things set Hinata off—black metal, blue fluorescent light, the smell of formaldehyde, even a wet floor once. He’ll start sweating uncontrollably and shaking, usually able to keep the noise down by clamping a hand over his mouth until Kageyama, Ennoshita, or the nurses are able to calm him down again.

The nights don’t get much better, though. They get quicker and easier to handle, but Hinata still wakes screaming or crying or thrashing or all three—sometimes Kageyama wakes to the sound of soft weeping or Hinata whimpering his name.

But what Kageyama finds to be the worst part of the whole process is when the neurodrugs’ effect is weak enough that Hinata is no longer prevented from Ghost Drifting. The first time Kageyama feels the probing warmth of Hinata’s mind, he jumps out of his chair in surprise and has to back away a few steps. Hinata longs for their unity again, he can feel that much from just a brush, but he remembers what Ennoshita had said about Ghost Drifting: absolutely zero contact while Hinata is weak coming off his medication and not fully in control of the gash. The last thing they wanted was another pilot to be scouted out by the Precursors.

So Kageyama has to put up that wall again, like he did when he didn’t trust Hinata, like he did when Hinata saw his memories and he got scared, like he did all those times when their relationship fractured and it breaks his heart. It’s okay when Hinata’s trying to reel the urge in and Kageyama can say sorry, sorry, sorry as he rejects Hinata over and over again, sadness in both their eyes, but it’s near impossible to do when Hinata wakes up in the middle of the night pounding on Kageyama’s wall, begging for him to let him in, looking at Kageyama with desperation in his eyes.

I can’t stand it, Tobio, he pleads. I can’t be alone, I need you, I need you, there’s too much in my mind I need you to help me—

I am, Kageyama tells him. I’m helping you, even though it doesn’t feel like it right now. And then he’ll hold Hinata too tight while Hinata presses against his skin, searching for a connection deeper than skin and muscle and bone.

It’s not all bad, though. There are times when Kageyama can see physical evidence of Hinata’s recovery. There’s one night where Kageyama sleeps through the whole night because Hinata caught himself mid-sob, and after checking on Kageyama, Hinata was able to put himself back to sleep. He smiles and laughs as much as he used to when he’s awake. Once Hinata is fully weaned off the neurodrugs, he feels like he’s actually a person again, ready for anything.

"Hinata," Ennoshita says. "I can't move you forward until you accept your injury."

Or maybe not.

"I have," Hinata snaps, irritable. "I know I'll never walk again. I know I'll be haunted by the mission. I know I'll be on medication for my entire fucking life, and I know every day will be fighting pain and frustration, but right now I'm more frustrated than ever."

He looks at Ennoshita. "I handled the neurodrugs. That was five weeks ago. I can start physical therapy."

"I'm your doctor," Ennoshita says.

"Please," Hinata begs. "I need this."

Ennoshita sighs. "I'll reduce your medication so you can start. Don't try and tell me you don't need medication, though."

"I know," Hinata says softly. "I know." Frankly, he doesn't know if he'd be alive if it weren't for the painkillers.

It's worse this time.

The neurodrugs regulated Hinata's emotions and his mental trauma, the hole in his mind. On such heavy medication for his physical ailments, he had forgotten how serious they were, viewing the side-effects as minor inconveniences that could be overcome by limiting his medication. He had forgotten what those medications were for.

He doesn't want to see anyone while he adjusts. Speaking is worse than when he first woke up. He starts sentences, or tries to, only to forget where he was going partway through. Not that he could really get the words out in the first place. His brain drifts, a kite in the wind, wavering from thoughts about pain to thoughts of food to pain to misery and back to pain again. Pain is really the only thing he knows. Aches spread throughout his whole body, like Daichi had put him through the wringer, back in the days of his training. He feels like the second day after harsh training, but he feels like that all the time, and just existing makes him tired. He doesn't even feel like a human, just an exhausted, spasming, pain puddle.

After weeks of adjustment, he's "ready" to start physical therapy. He doesn't feel ready. He feels thoroughly dead, and makes sure that Ennoshita knows it.

"It won't be anything hard," Ennoshita says. "Narita and Kinoshita will start you out slow, building up your arm and core strength."

Ennoshita lied. Hinata's first PT session goes horribly. The pain is always present, making his arms shake and his hands sweat around the medicine ball. He drops it often. Narita and Kinoshita are kind and understanding of his weakness, just makes it worse. They talk to him low and soothing, but their kindness feels like babying. I'm not weak, he wants to snap at them. I don't need your help. But of course, he does. He's Hinata, the invalid, the helpless newborn, not Hinata, the powerful Jaeger pilot. That night, he cries himself into a migraine and has the nurses up his painkiller dosage. The relief is sweet and welcome, and tastes like defeat.

Ennoshita isn't surprised (is he ever surprised?) by Hinata's regression. That's normal too, he says. Sure, it's "normal." But Hinata doesn't want "normal," he wants a miracle. He wants someone to jump out and say 'surprise! you're actually all better!’ He wants the impossible.

So he sucks it up. He works hard, pushes himself to his limits, and respects those limits. He starts to come to terms with the endpoints in his ability, and how different they are from what they used to be. He actually listens to Kinoshita and Narita, who have the years of experience to tell when he’s starting to reach his maximum effort. Through careful limitation of his workouts and a gradual build up couple with a gradual adjustment to a lower dose of medication, Hinata finds he has more energy. He’s not as drowsy, and the aches, while persistent, are more often from working out than the stress-pain of dealing with his nerve damage.

For the first time in months, Hinata feels like he can fight again.

 

\------------------------------------------------

 

A “last stand” sounds heroic and admirable up to the point where the pilots come to the realization that they are completely outgunned and underprepared. As nice as stories about how struggling revolutionaries overcame a massive and better-prepared army were inspiring, the truth was that those stories were based upon human versus human interactions and what the Miyagi base faced was fundamentally…not that.

Bokuto slams his fist on the table. “Dammit!” He snarls.

“Really, Koutarou, that kind of force isn’t necessary,” Akaashi tuts, picking up the tablet pen they had dropped in surprise when Bokuto made his exclamation. Bokuto looks at them in disbelief.

“Are you serious, Keiji?” He gestures at the display in front of them, showing the current stocks of weaponry they had on the base to equip the Jaegers with. Gold Strike’s specialty sniper rifle needed shells, the plasma cannons needed clip refills, Gamma Raptor’s claws needed _unique_ cylinders to fill their reservoirs, and _everyone_ needed coolant so their cannons didn’t take _eight hundred years_ to recharge... “Are we looking at the same display?” Bokuto asks, gesturing emphatically at the screen on the table in front of them again.

“I understand that the situation is dire, but getting frustrated isn’t going to make the arms we need appear in storage,” Akaashi reminds him, but they don’t look happy about the situation, either.

“We’ve got a little over enough to cover everyone if we assume Tyrant Omega won’t be riding with us,” Yamaguchi concludes, scrutinizing the data. To his left, Tsukishima shoots Kageyama, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, a brief glance. Koushi, standing next to him and worrying his lip, gives Kageyama a much longer look, but Kageyama doesn’t budge. Hasn’t budged on not Drifting without Hinata since he made his promise.

“That would be fine, in a normal drop,” Kenma sighs. “But this isn’t a normal drop. We need to expand the holding capacity of our Jaegers to last as long as possible with as much firepower as possible.” They rub tiredly at their eyes. “Keiji, how much plasma did you bring with you? Gamma and Strike are the only ones with highly customized weapons.”

Akaashi makes a face. “Enough for two to three more drops. We were planning on calling in for a shipment some time after that last drop, but…” No one has to say anything. The strategy room is heavy with the weight of the base’s solitude.

“Shit,” Kuroo nicely sums up the mood.

“It could be worse,” Tsukishima reasons. “Even if we’re short on specialty ammo, we have plenty of plasma for the cannons, standard artillery shells, and extra melee weapons in storage.”

Kenma purses their lips. “He’s smart. His armor is going to be tough. He’ll probably have weapons specialized to combating Jaegers. It’s going to take _all_ of our brainpower to even _begin_ to combat his strategies. We all fight differently—that’s our only advantage. I just wish we had the tools to make each of our Jaegers an army instead of just a resistance.”

“Ukai-san,” Bokuto pleads. “Are you _sure_ there’s no one else—”

“No one else is going to stick their necks out for us,” Ukai says with heavy finality. “I’ve sent Ittetsu to Nishiura to appeal directly to Momoe to meet me. I can’t risk anything other than face-to-face communication. Even contacting another base is dangerous.” A smile twitches at the edge of his lips. “At least I know I can trust Ittetsu to get her to agree to meet me. There’s no one quite like him when it comes to getting his way.”

“Still,” Kuroo says, “three Jaegers is hardly a normal response team, let alone the last thing standing between that kaiju and annihilation of the human race.”

“I know that,” Ukai growls. He makes a face. “I’ve seen enough.” He turns to Kageyama, who bristles, the word _no_ already on his lips before Ukai has time to say anything. “Kageyama, I’m sorry to do this to you, but we _need_ Omega. We won’t be able to do any damage to that thing without a reasonably sized group of Jaegers. You _know_ this.”

“I won’t do it,” Kageyama objects coolly.

Ukai grinds his teeth together. “This isn’t a game. There’s no time to be petty over your choice of partner. Kageyama, you are a functional pilot—one of the most talented we’ve ever had—and you _must_ find yourself a new co-pilot, or we’ll have to throw you in the Jaeger with someone we pulled off the street!”

“You said this mission was optional,” Kageyama points out, infuriatingly calm.

“ _Dammit, Kageyama! Don’t you give a fuck about this base being destroyed with **him** in it?_ ” The Marshal finally snaps, making the pilots around him wince. It’s a bit of a low blow, but Ukai doesn’t know what else to do.

Kageyama narrows his eyes. “I’m not saying that I won’t pilot to be a petulant child, sir. I’m saying it because I _can’t_. Technically, yes, I am still a functional pilot. But if you throw me in a Jaeger with someone who isn’t Hinata, we won’t connect. It’s just a fact. We are bound far too tightly together to Drift with another.”

“You won’t even try?” The Marshal says, scowling.

“With respect, sir,” Kageyama murmurs, dangerously soft, “you don’t know anything. Hinata and I fought tooth and nail for the trust between us. To do that again, open up to someone new—it’s impossible for me.” _If it had been me hurt instead of Hinata_ , Kageyama thinks bitterly, _he would have been just fine. This wouldn’t be a problem in the first place._

Ukai throws up his hands in exasperation. “What are you going to do, then?” He asks. “Why are you here? If neither of you can pilot, shouldn’t you be evacuating?”

“ _Who_ can’t pilot?”

The room goes still.

Strong of voice and bright-eyed, Hinata makes his entrance, pushed in his wheelchair by Ennoshita. His arms are slightly thinner than the Rangers remember and he’s a bit pale in the face, but there’s no mistaking the hurricane of orange for anyone else—Hinata Shouyou is on the mend.

A few things happen at once. The most important of those is that Kageyama’s closed-off, coolly informative façade falls like a curtain. His eyebrows, pulled down tightly, fly up in hope and wonder and deep _affection_ as the name, _Shouyou_ , slides unbidden past his lips, disregarding any pretense of formality with his partner. Kageyama _runs_ to Hinata, sliding to his knees when he reaches the wheelchair, putting him eye level with Hinata. His hands don’t know what to do, fluttering over Hinata’s knees, his arms, his shoulders, and Kageyama’s eyes search Hinata’s in need of an answer to an unasked question—

Hinata laughs, grasping Kageyama’s hands lightly in his own, weaving their fingers together and giving them a small squeeze. “It’s okay, Tobio,” he says lightly. “I’m better.”

“You’re _getting_ better,” Ennoshita corrects with a growl. “I haven’t written you a clean bill of health just yet, you still have—”

“To do all my stretches and exercises in order to keep my muscles from weakening, I _know_ ,” Hinata interrupts with the roll of his eyes, exasperated. He grins madly at Kageyama. “I really am better,” he promises, and Kageyama finds he believes in that determined smile, the tired light behind his eyes that spoke of great effort in getting Hinata to a state that he could present himself to the Marshal in.

Of the other things that happen at the time of Hinata’s appearance, all occur in the background out of sight of the star of the show himself. Akaashi watches the tightness in Bokuto’s shoulders loosen up just a little, and a real smile slide soft across his face. Tsukishima sniffs in what could be easily misconstrued as disdain, but was actually self-satisfaction that he had been _right_ , Hinata would recover (Yamaguchi, having less need to keep up an air of superiority, grips his chest and audibly sighs in relief). In the corner, forgotten by Kageyama, Koushi’s smile twists into something just a little sad, just a little bitter, and he melts back into the wall.

For Kuroo and Kenma, relief floods their eyes in unison, Kenma wavering just a little on their feet and bumping slightly into Kuroo for support. The last Kenma had seen of Hinata, he was a ghost in a hospital bed, but this Hinata looks _real_ and ready to hop out of his wheelchair any moment, all his movements itching with the urge to be in motion. But at the same time, he looks like a bird grounded by clipped wings that still yearns for the sky, a fact that sticks out, bitter and sore in Kuroo’s mind as well as Kenma’s.

It’s maybe an accident, or perhaps just an intervention of fate that Hinata looks up to meet Kenma’s eyes while Kenma observes him, automatically checking him over for any sign of illness or injury. Kenma flinches, but surprisingly, Hinata’s expression does not become muted or curdled. He does not look away, either. Instead, his smile becomes soft and thoughtful, considering. Kenma doesn’t break eye contact for fear of upsetting this tentative balance since Hinata had rejected them in the hospital.

Finally, Hinata offers them a small nod of acknowledgment, a promise of _we’ll talk later_ , and Kenma ducks their head, looking away and choosing to shoot Hinata shy glances instead of outright staring, embarrassed to have thought that Hinata would have held such a strong grudge over _anything_ , even something like the colossal mistake Kenma and Kuroo had made. Kuroo’s hand settles on the small of Kenma’s back, a physical comfort and warm heat that eases up the knot of tension in Kenma’s stomach and lets them breathe again.

“You had us worried,” Tsukishima says gruffly, almost accusingly. Hinata’s eyes flick to his in cool answer to his challenge, while Kageyama bristles at his side. Tsukishima twiddles with his thumbs and scowls. “Sure took your sweet time getting better. Tadashi and I knew you’d be fine, of course, but we almost looked like idiots in front of the rest of the pilots when you didn’t show. Do your best to not make us look so bad on our next mission together, would you?”

The tightness in Hinata’s expression falls slack and he laughs easily. “Right, right. Can’t be letting my fellow young bloods get shown up by the old farts, now can I?” But even more than ease that Tsukishima hadn’t been trying to pick a fight, Hinata is overwhelmingly touched that they had been waiting for him and that Tsukishima had said _next mission_ , implying Hinata would ride with them once again. Kageyama can tell in the shakiness of his fingers and his too-loud laugh covering up lingering fear and relief in his voice.

“About that…” Ukai begins, still eyeing Hinata with amazement. He addresses Ennoshita. “Can he even pilot? There was damage to his mind, right?”

Ennoshita manages to look even more exasperated than he already is. “I’ve been run down to the bone since he decided he was going to take it upon himself to heal from the damage, both physical and mental. I’ve tried to slow him down, stick him to a _proper_ rehab schedule, but as you can see…” Ennoshita gestures at Hinata. “He clearly hasn’t listened to a single word I’ve said, and recovered in half the time it should have taken him. You tell me if he’s ready—or rather, you try and tell _him_ he’s not ready.”

Indeed, Ennoshita does look a little worse for wear. There are dark circles under his eyes and his lip look half bitten to death, but there’s also a quiet pride on his face, pride in Hinata for overcoming what so many other Rangers succumbed to when facing life-altering injuries or damage to their minds (and Hinata had _both_ ). The Marshal raises an eyebrow at Hinata in question.

“I _am_ going to pilot,” he declares. “I can control the gash.”

A look back at Ennoshita, who shrugs helplessly. “We don’t have a way of measuring that outside of Hinata’s own determination. He’s the first case of his kind.”

“You need me,” Hinata explains quietly. “You don’t have a choice. Kageyama is right—a substitute for me won’t do. I know it, just from prodding around at the connection between me and the Anteverse. I’ve confirmed something I already had my suspicions was true: Tyrant Omega has imprinted on me and Tobio. He can’t accept any other pilots.”

Kageyama blinks in surprise, but he’s not quite sure _why_ this comes as such a shock. Since day one they had been molding and shaping Omega to fit their minds, to form a piloting trio that worked as one organism. In a strange way, they had _raised_ Omega. They were his ‘parents’ in one way or another, and it was doubtful anyone else aside from the unique combination of the three of them would be able to achieve such incredible results.

 _We truly are an oddball trio,_ Kageyama thinks, amused.

It’s a good argument. The only ones who could really dispute Hinata’s claim would be Noya and Saeko possibly, but neither of them were there. And yet, there was still a sense of unease amongst the Rangers, revealed in anxious glances and the shifting of feet. Hinata cocks his head to the side. “What’s with all the hesitation? Don’t you need a fourth Jaeger?”

“Well, yes, but—” Bokuto speaks up, reluctant. “But Hinata, what about your legs?”

Hinata’s face finally turns to ice. “What do you mean?” He asks, voice flat.

Bokuto scratches at his neck and can’t make eye contact. “The command platform…you need to stand…”

Hinata snarls viciously and slams his fist into the armrest of his wheelchair, startling the assembled. “So what?” He challenges. “Tanaka-san and Noya-san are the most talented engineer-scientist pair the PPDC has ever had and ever will have! You’re telling me they can’t find a way to allow a disabled person to pilot a Jaeger? That’s preposterous!” He grits his teeth angrily, but Yamaguchi interrupts gently.

“Are you sure you even want to go back out there, Shouyou?” Yamaguchi asks, tentative. “The kaiju…they turned your life upside down. And you could definitely still help us from the base! It’s not…Bokuto-san isn’t trying to belittle you—none of us are—we’re just _worried_ that the strain of your injury and the speed of your recovery may put you under a kind of pressure out in the field that you’re not used to and might not be able to handle. Here, you’ll be completely safe to help direct the attack with the knowledge we need in that head of yours.”

“I understand and appreciate your concern, Tadashi,” Hinata says with honest warmth, “but you and I both know direction won’t matter at all if there’re no soldiers left to direct in the first place. My place is in a Jaeger— _my_ Jaeger—alongside all of you.”

In the end, it’s Ukai who steps in with a long sigh and a grimace. “Hinata has a point,” he concedes. “We’ve established that we don’t have nearly enough firepower with a three-Jaeger team. Adding Omega into the mix will cut down our supplies, but it’s yet another variable to throw off the general. Which, by the way, you better explain to us pretty soon, Hinata,” Ukai orders.

Hinata nods. “I can do that,” he acquiesces. “But I’d like to speak to the scientists first, if that’s alright with you?”

“Permission granted,” Ukai consents. “We weren’t getting much done anyway, so we might as well dismiss the meeting now. There’s no time to rest, though—get yourselves, your teams, or your Jaegers into top shape, from now until our last stand.” The pilots salute smartly.

They file out in pairs, giving Hinata individual offerings of well-wishes while Kageyama watches with a kind of passive protectiveness that tells Hinata he won’t be budging from his side for quite a while. Hinata cards a hand through Kageyama’s hair and suddenly blue eyes are on him, still searching. “Can he come home soon?” Kageyama asks Ennoshita.

“He’s about halfway through with his rehab in-hospital,” Ennoshita says. “Mentally, he’s basically ready to go. But physically…” Here, he shrugs weakly. “It'll take time to rebuild that muscle and to get him back to where he was strength-wise. He's still suffering a little from the change in dosage of his medication. He may be out quickly; he may take weeks or even months, however long we’ve got. It’ll probably be helpful if you’re there. The strain of being unable to Ghost Drift might be eased if Hinata has you there physically. Are you okay with him visiting, Hinata?”

“I’d really like that,” Hinata says gently. Kageyama is very aware that they are still holding hands. “But you take care of yourself, too, Tobio! Don’t be moving into the hospital just for my sake. It’s not good if we’re both ill by the time the fight rolls around.”

“You’re not a burden,” Kageyama huffs, annoyed. “If anything, it’ll be a weight off my mind, too. It’s a real pain to wonder about you every second of the day without the Ghost Drift to keep us in contact.”

“Well, hopefully the Ghost Drift will be up and running sooner rather than later,” Hinata muses. “I miss having you in my head.”

“Don’t count on it,” Ennoshita warns, scoffing. “This is one you’ll be forced to take your time on. There’s no way to will yourself around the process of adjusting to new medication and regaining strength bit by bit.” He makes as if to wheel Hinata around and take him back to the hospital, but Hinata stops him with a small ‘ah!’

“Um, if you want to…” he starts, fiddling with the drawstring of his sweatpants, “you could always come with us? I have physical therapy now, but it would probably be really useful if you learned how to do the partner stretching with me? I mean, I’ll be moving back into our quarters eventually.” He tilts his head back to look up at Ennoshita pleadingly.

Ennoshita shrugs, looking unbothered. “Sure. Anything to get you little rascal off my hands faster.” He ruffles Hinata’s hair fondly and gets an indignant squawk for his efforts.

“That is!” Hinata stresses to Kageyama. “Only if you want to!”

Kageyama flicks him across the nose. “Dumbass,” he sighs. “Of course I want to help you get better, I get lonely too, you know.”

Hinata beams.

 

\--------------------------------------

 

Kageyama doesn’t just come to that one PT session—he comes to all the ones after that, eager to help and sharp-eyed, observing Ennoshita’s words and actions with laser focus. Surprisingly, despite what Hinata had said about partner stretching, there’s really not all that much he needs another person for. Narita is there as a spotter, making sure Hinata doesn’t overwork himself and that he’s doing the stretches correctly.

A lot of what Ennoshita has him do is simply muscle strengthening and exercises Hinata can do in his wheelchair—lots of bands and lifting weights that leaves Hinata sweating and determined, a happy light in his eyes to be able to push himself physically again. Kageyama remembers their morning runs with a bittersweet pang, but when Hinata talks to him about how his biceps are going to be _way_ bigger than Kageyama’s and how he’ll have abs of solid titanium, the ache in Kageyama’s chest eases up, just a bit.

It’s nice, too, that Kinoshita and Narita give Hinata lessons on how to maneuver himself in the wheelchair, where the wheelchair accessible parts of the base are, and how to be completely independent as a person with disabilities. Kageyama likes that a lot. Despite the level of trust between them, Kageyama knows Hinata would resent being forced to depend on him for the rest of his life. Every day Hinata can say to the nurses or Kageyama “no, that’s okay, I can do it” is a day he shines just a little bit brighter.

But physical therapy and strength training get harder, too. The painkillers were able to suppress Hinata's conastant soreness and muscle pain, but with those cushions removed and the tiredness from rough night after rough night, Hinata gets frustrated much more easily. He’s prone to snapping at the people around him and pushing himself too far, then getting angry when stopped from pushing himself too far. It’s crushing for both Hinata and Kageyama to see Hinata bent over in his chair, hands clenched in white-knuckled fists, suppressing tears of frustration. Even though Ennoshita assures Hinata that he’s being unusually strong in forcefully sticking to his routine, to Hinata, all the struggle smack of personal weakness, and that’s something he can’t tolerate.

 

And of course, even with Hinata’s growing independence, Kageyama is still a little nervous to be left alone with him for the first time at PT, no doctor or nurse hovering and ready to help should Hinata get hurt. He grips the medicine ball tightly and bores a hole into it with his eyes. It’s a big one, a ten-pounder, and the thought of hurling it at Hinata makes Kageyama skittish. “Are you sure we shouldn’t use a lighter one? If I miss and hit you in the face, it’ll be a while before anyone can come help us,” he asks.

Hinata rolls his eyes. “Please, Tobio. We did this all the time before the incident. I know you can aim, you giant buffoon.” He makes grabby motions with his hands.

“It’s heavy though,” Kageyama protests.

“It’ll feel really heavy when I hit you in the gut with it,” Hinata warns, and Kageyama passes the ball.

It’s somewhat therapeutic just to toss the ball back and forth. Hinata directs Kageyama to throw a little high or lower, to his left or his right depending on which parts of his core he wants to work. Kageyama finds that he’s sweating harder than Hinata pretty fast and that his arms are getting sore. Hinata’s muscles bunch when he next throws the ball, and Kageyama takes it hard to the stomach, a small _oof_ of pain escaping his lips.

Hinata barks out a laugh in surprise. “Whoa there! Don’t get distracted now, Tobio, tell me if you need a break or something.” His eyes twinkle with mischief. “Can’t be wearing out my exercise partner this quickly.”

Kageyama doesn’t know how to tell Hinata he had been staring at his arms when he got distracted without embarrassing himself, and Hinata keeps calling him _Tobio_ , so Kageyama settles for wiping the sweat off the bridge of his nose and his upper lip with his shirt rather than reply. At least he can hide his blush a little, or pass off the red as exertion instead of the embarrassing truth.

“Let’s just—let’s just do something else, _Shouyou_ ,” Kageyama huffs, throwing his first name right back at Hinata. It does not have the intended effect of making Hinata blush—his smile just widens.

“I can do the rest of my routine on my own,” he replies. “But you could use the gym equipment, too! It’ll be just like our cadet days.” So Kageyama does.

But still, there’s something off about Hinata’s cheerfulness. It’s somewhat artificial and forced—Kageyama reaches instinctually to their bond to try and figure it out before he remembers that Hinata can’t use the Ghost Drift. His worry must play out on his face though, because in the middle of a round of pull-ups, Hinata breaks.

“I’m sorry if I’ve been acting a little strange,” Hinata apologizes suddenly. Kageyama lowers himself from the pull-up bar and pads to Hinata’s side, sinking to a sitting position.

“What’s wrong?” He prompts gently.

Hinata bites at his lip. “Ennoshita-san has taken me off the neurodrugs, and he’s reduced my dose of the painkillers. I've had about a month and a half to adjust, but it's still hard on me,” he confesses. “It’s not supposed to be an easy process. I tried to hide a lot of it from you early on." He bites his lip. "It's not pretty, when the soreness sets in or the medication messes with my brain. Things can get ugly pretty quick. It's not something I'd imagine anyone would want to see.”

Kageyama reads in between the lines. “I’ll stay with you,” he promises. “I'll visit you every day, if it will help.”

“How did y—I didn’t even _ask_ anything,” Hinata sputters.

“I know you hate to ask for help,” Kageyama says. “But it’s okay. We’re _partners_ , remember?”

Hinata regards him for a long moment, before shaking his head fondly. “When did you learn to understand me so well?” He asks, laughter in his voice. “It seems like just yesterday we could only read each other using the Drift.”

“A lot has happened since we first Ghost Drifted,” Kageyama points out. “I’ve observed you for a long time.”

“Do you remember,” Hinata snorts, “do you remember how we first Ghost Drifted?”

Kageyama groans and presses his forehead into Hinata’s knee. “That was a _nightmare_. I tried to scare the shit out of you by grabbing your leg and ended up getting smacked in the face by your emotions.”

“I was better at it than you,” Hinata teases. “You didn’t even know how to handle people back then.”

“Oh yeah? Well look how far I’ve come,” Kageyama retorts, tilting his head up so he can look at Hinata, chin on his knee.

“Yeah,” Hinata agrees, volume dropping to a whisper. “You’ve changed so much. You really are amazing, Tobio.”

There’s a moment here. Kageyama’s tongue is heavy in his mouth, he can’t force words out to respond to the honest praise, to the way Hinata’s eyes drop to half-lidded with his voice, to the flicker of Hinata’s tongue across his lips after speaking.

“Don’t flatter me so much,” he says finally, not really understanding his tone of voice. “I couldn’t have done any of this without you. You’ve given me so much.” His hand flutters at Hinata’s elbow and Hinata jumps, startled. It settles there, against Kageyama’s will, and Hinata’s eyes dart between his hand and his eyes, then lower.

 _His lips._ Kageyama’s heart gives a painful thud, sending a spike of adrenaline through his body and making the haze over his mind even thicker. Maybe he tugs at Hinata’s elbow, maybe Hinata is just pulled by the gravity between them, but he leans forward just a little.

“ _Shouyou_ —” Kageyama croaks, hoarse, and with flawless timing, Kinoshita arrives to fetch Hinata for his weekly strength test with Ennoshita.

The heaviness of the moment is shattered and Kageyama jerks away from Hinata, Hinata lurching back into his chair. They can’t look at each other, red-faced, and Kinoshita raises a knowing eyebrow but doesn’t say anything. Kageyama drops immediately into push-ups to distract himself from _whatever the hell had just happened_ while Kinoshita wheels Hinata out of the room. They share one more shy glance, and then Hinata is gone.

 

\---------------

 

On good days, Kageyama gets to spoil him a little, too.

“There’s no way I’m drinking that,” Hinata deadpans, regarding the green smoothie with suspicion.

“It’s really good,” Kageyama protests, taking a sip of his own. “It’ll help you get stronger and recover from working out.”

“That’s what I have meat for,” Hinata grumbles, checking out the cup from every angle and wrinkling his nose. “Why do I have to drink _vegetables_ to stay healthy?”

“There’s fruit in there, too!” Kageyama argues. “Mango, pineapple—it’s good.”

“There’s _kale_ in there, Tobio.”

“Oh for god’s sake,” Kageyama groans. “It’s sweet. I got all the produce fresh from the vender in the neighboring town.”

“Is _this_ what you had in your thermos after morning runs?” Hinata sounds horrified.

“ _Yes_ ,” Kageyama growls. “Fucking—just fucking _try it_ you immature _child_.”

Hinata screws up his face, but hesitantly lifts the cup to his lips and takes a sip, eyes squeezed shut. However, he blinks them open in surprise when he swallows. “It’s really good!” He chirps in amazement, taking another, bigger sip. “Tobio, what the fuck? Why doesn’t it taste disgusting?”

“Because the fruit masks the taste of the vegetables, _obviously_ ,” Kageyama sighs.

“Are you going to make me another one?” Hinata asks excitedly, dancing in his wheelchair as Kageyama pushes him through the hall. “I’m totally getting another one, right?”

“I’m never doing anything kind for you again,” Kageyama mutters.

“Aw, please, Tobio? You won’t even if I beg? Look, I’m so cute!” Hinata tils his head back to rub the back of his head against Kageyama’s chest, a kind of backwards nuzzling.

“You’re the least cute thing I’ve ever seen,” Kageyama lies.

“Then why are you blushing so hard?” Hinata laughs, looking up at him, voice playful.

“Shut up or you’ll never get to see your surprise,” Kageyama warns. His voice doesn’t waver. It _doesn’t_.

Hinata makes some sound like _wow, so mean_ or _oooo, scary_ but Kageyama ignores him like a champ, taking the turn away from the Shatterdome. Hinata shuts up at that, peeking curiously at Kageyama—he had thought they were going to see Omega. Ha, like Kageyama would come up with such a predictable surprise! Although he owes Narita for most (all) of the inspiration.

Kageyama wheels Hinata out the door of the base and onto the helicopter pads, six wide for a secondary base like Miyagi. It was Narita who had told Kageyama they weren’t getting any supply shipments in today and that surprisingly enough, the helicopter pads had a nice view out over the bay and in the direction of the nearby towns. And, as Kageyama had suspected, there was a nice breeze along the exposed sides of the pads, contrasting pleasantly with the noon sun.

“Wow, this is amazing!” Hinata exclaims. “It’s been so long since I’ve been let outside!” He lets out a small, pleased groan that makes Kageyama blush. “The sun feels _so good_ …and this wind is wonderful!” He stretches his arms out wide and sucking in a breath, Hinata yells, “ _Good afternoon, world!_ ”

“Idiot! You’re too loud!” Kageyama scolds him. It’s useless, though, when Hinata has the wind in his hair and sunlight in his eyes and it looks something like he’s coming out of hibernation, unfurling his wings again from where they had been closed too tightly. _Fresh air_ , Kageyama thinks, _was a good idea_.

“I love this surprise,” Hinata tells Kageyama. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, well, we’re not done yet,” Kageyama informs him, puffing up a little at the praise. “We’re going to have a…picnic.” Even as he says it his heart thumps uncomfortably because now that he’s actually thinking it through, a picnic for two sounds _intimate_. Hinata’s not going to let him get away with it, either, if the mischievous tilt to his chin says anything.

Kageyama steadfastly ignores his partner and rolls him over to the corner in a nice patch of sun with the best view over the water. Hinata hums happily as he watches Kageyama lay out a blanket and set out a basket he had kept slung over his back so Hinata couldn’t see it (“A picnic basket and everything, Tobio!” Hinata cries gleefully).

Hinata lifts his arms so Kageyama can scoop him up in his arms and lower him gently onto the checkered blanket. Hinata arranges his legs in a way that will keep them out of the way and runs a hand fondly over the blanket. “You sure did your research, huh?” He notes softly.

“I wanted it to be a success,” Kageyama huffs. “It’s about time something good happened to you.” He pulls out two beers from the basket and Hinata makes another cry of delight.

“Oh my god, hello my beautiful alcoholic child whom I love,” Hinata coos, cradling the beer in his arms. He looks up. “Is it—am I clear—”

Kageyama nods. “Ennoshita-san said you were okay to have a little.” Hinata kisses the bottle and Kageyama rolls his eyes, gesturing for Hinata to hand it over so he can open it. While he pops the tops on both of them, Hinata pulls out little bento boxes tied in handkerchiefs just messy enough to tell him Kageyama had made these by hand. His heart swells with an emotion he hasn’t been able to feel in a long, long time, and he allows himself a moment to revel in the fact that he is in love with Kageyama.

“What?” Kageyama grumbles, defensive. “Why’re you looking at the bento boxes like that? They aren’t _that_ bad.”

Hinata throws his head back and laughs. “You’re right,” he sighs when he gets his laughter under control. “I wouldn’t have them any other way.”

The food is, of course, delicious. Kageyama had gone to a lot of trouble to make this perfect; there was no way the food wouldn’t be perfect to match. Still, Hinata can’t help the pleased noises he makes when eating the food, nor the happy bouncing that accompanies his appreciation of a good meal.

“What are you even doing,” Kageyama sighs. “You’re going to make a mess.”

“Like hell I will!” Hinata retorts. “I’m not going to spill a single grain of rice; it’s too good to waste.”

“Oh yeah?” Kageyama quirks an eyebrow.

“Yeah!” Hinata huffs. “Wait, what are you—”

Kageyama reaches over to swipe at a piece of rice stuck off to the side of Hinata’s mouth. The movement is slow, tender, and sets Hinata’s skin aflame. The urge to nip at that finger is almost impossible to resist, and for a moment, Hinata imagines just what would go down if he took Kageyama’s finger into his mouth. Something would surely get knocked over in the process of…uh. Well. That’s not what Kageyama wanted from this day out, anyway. Hinata allows Kageyama’s thumb to escape back to his own mouth where he sucks the rice off, eyebrows raised in challenge at Hinata’s declaration.

“Starting _now_ , I won’t waste any,” Hinata sniffs, turning his head away and earning the huff of a laugh from Kageyama.

Affection, however, is not an emotion easily ignored or stuffed down below. Full and warm from good food and sunlight, Hinata feels a wave of lethargy overcome him, settling right behind his eyes and making his eyelids droop. Kageyama, too, has this distance in his eyes as he scans the horizon, thoughtful. And his lap looks so, so inviting.

Kageyama hardly even startles when Hinata puts his head in his lap, nestling against his thigh and squinting up at him against the light of the sun. “Stop that,” Kageyama sighs, pushing Hinata’s head to the side. “You’re going to hurt your eyes doing that.”

 _But I want to look at you,_ Hinata almost protests, but oh, there’s a hand in his hair, carding through the strands languidly and scratching at his scalp. Hinata arches his back and makes a small noise of pleasure, Kageyama doing nothing to stop him aside from shushing gently. Hinata lets his eyes flutter shut and allows the feeling of contentedness fill him. _This,_ Hinata thinks, _this is worth all the pain and suffering it cost to be able to feel again. I would not give this feeling up for the world._

“Did I do a good job?” Kageyama asks. “Is this…are you happy with it?”

Hinata turns his head slowly, Kageyama’s hand going still, until his knuckles press gently against Hinata’s cheek. “It really was the best,” Hinata promises. “I needed the fresh air and—well, I don’t think you could have done a better job of a picnic.” He smiles brightly. “It would be even better if you would keep patting me, though.”

“Brat,” Kageyama scoffs. “Spoiled brat.”

“I know,” Hinata sighs happily as Kageyama’s hand moves back into his hair. “I’m the luckiest spoiled brat on this planet.”

This, Kageyama thinks, makes everything worth it.

It’s not just at the surprise picnic that he begins to see light in Hinata’s eyes again. He comes to life with an inner strength that continues to blindside the others pilots, as Hinata take to joining their progress meetings and contributing to plans and strategy as much as everyone else, possibly more. Kageyama finds him more than once pouring over plans in his hospital bed, a pen cap in his mouth and papers scattered all around him.

He seeks out Tanaka and Noya on his own in order to ask them about modifications to Tyrant Omega’s Conn-Pod, then spends the rest of his free time from then on working on models and outlines with the scientist-engineer duo. He even agrees to do some test runs with the prototypes without Ennoshita’s permission, which results in his incarceration in the hospital for three days until finally, _finally_ Ennoshita acknowledges reluctantly that he probably doesn’t have a reason to keep Hinata from returning to his quarters with Kageyama when they’re managing very well on their own.

It shouldn’t really be a surprise that Hinata gets released early, but it _is_ , and Hinata and Kageyama celebrate it in the best way they know how: by being reckless and loud.

Maintenance staff, janitors, scientists, and technicians alike have to jump to the side to avoid the hurricane of speed and noise that is Kageyama, pushing a whooping and hollering Hinata through the hallways, taking the corners too sharp and roaring with excitement that they could go home together.

“Out of the way, out of the way!” Hinata calls. “This boy is free! Make way for the pilot with a clean bill of health!” If they get cursed at and scolded, well, who cares? Hinata is feeling better than ever and he is going back to his comfy bed and will wake up to Kageyama making him breakfast, the way it should be.

They screech to a halt in front of their quarters, Hinata wiggling and hurrying Kageyama up as he unlocks their door and throws it open, pushing Hinata over the bump in the entryway. “I’m home!” Hinata yells one final time, running his hands over counters and walls, whatever is within reach as Kageyama wheels him into their bedroom.

“Let’s get you into something that hasn’t been at the hospital for weeks,” Kageyama says. He had brought Hinata clothes, but it all still kind of smelled like hospital, and Hinata is happy to pull off his shirt, tossing it blindly and bursting into a fit of giggles when it smacks Kageyama in the face.

“Sorry,” he says in the voice of someone who isn’t even a bit sorry.

“Alright, well, for that, you’re going down,” Kageyama states, tossing the shirt into the hamper and walking over to Hinata, who had lowered himself into bed.

“What? No! No, stay away! Help!” Hinata squeals as Kageyama looms over him, then pushes him onto his back and climbs on top of him. “What’re you going to do?” Hinata squeaks.

“This,” Kageyama replies, monotone, then proceeds to tickle Hinata along his sides. Hinata lets out an unholy screech and bats wildly at Kageyama, giggling at the sensation.

“Tobio, _no_ —stop it, you big jerk, it tickles!” Hinata laughs. He finally manages to tickle Kageyama in the crook between his neck and shoulders with one of his flailings, making Kageyama swear and squeeze Hinata’s hand. He traps it there with his shoulder, collapsing on top of Hinata.

“Ew, get this lump off me,” Hinata complains through a face-splitting grin. “So gross.”

“Truce,” Kageyama declares, and Hinata pretends to think about it for a moment before agreeing. Kageyama props himself back up on his knees, still hovering over Hinata, and tugs at his sweatpants. Hinata feels it very faintly as Kageyama pulls the pants down past his hips, watching with only mild interest as Kageyama tosses those in the hamper, too. It’s not uncomfortable to be this undressed in front of Kageyama, really, not after all they’ve been through, but Hinata does preen a little when Kageyama takes a little too long to look away from his chest.

It’s not awkward until Kageyama, still on top of a mostly naked Hinata, pulls off his own shirt.

“Um,” Hinata says in response. There’s changing together and then there’s the sight of bare skin— _both_ of their bare skin—in close proximity. That’s a completely different animal, and it’s making Hinata’s face burn from his neck to his ears.

“What?” Kageyama asks, getting off of Hinata as soon as he’s discarded his shirt. “You feeling alright?”

“Just fine,” Hinata squeaks.

“Weirdo,” Kageyama says, rolling his eyes. He throws Hinata a clean pair of pajamas. “There, put those on. I’m going to make us dinner.”

“A celebratory dinner? How fancy!” Hinata manages to recover, clutching the clothes to his chest. Kageyama snorts, pulling on a sleep shirt, and leaving without another word. Hinata wonders faintly if maybe it was a mistake to move back in with Kageyama when being so close to him made his heart hurt.

 _Jeez_ , Hinata wonders. _How did I ever get used to that?_

Kageyama only ducks back in when Hinata’s dressed in order to scoop him up again despite Hinata’s protests (“I can wheel myself out to the living room just fine!” “Or I could just…do this” “…Okay.”) and deposit him on the couch, where he has a prime view of Kageyama in his element.

Or not.

As good a cook as Kageyama is with breakfast and lunch, the dinner he planned to cook required a skill level Kageyama had not quite achieved yet, and Hinata has the privilege of watching him swear, burn the meat, overcook the vegetables, swear some more, cause some miscellaneous pot to start smoking, swear even _more_ , and then finally shut off the stove and collapse against the counter, defeated.

Hinata can’t help it—he laughs. Kageyama shoots him a weak glare, making Hinata attempt to cover his mouth, but the image of a frantic Kageyama scrambling with three different pots and pans at once was simultaneously too cute and too hilarious to stop laughing. His shoulders shake, and by the time he’s wiped the tears from his eyes, Kageyama is kneeling in front of him, looking sullen.

“So much for celebratory dinner,” he mutters, flicking Hinata across the nose. “What’re we going to do now, huh?”

“Oh please,” Hinata chortles, “like you don’t have some pork buns in the fridge saved for later.”

Kageyama’s eyes widen. “…Oh,” he replies intelligently. “Yeah, that’ll…that’ll do.” He makes a face. “It’s not exactly celebra—”

“I haven’t had any in forever though,” Hinata whines. “Ennoshita-san wouldn’t let me have any.”

“Fine, fine. Stop whining,” Kageyama sighs, padding back to the kitchen to microwave their dinner. In true style, he serves them on cheap plastic plates and pulls out two glasses.

“Oooo, what’s that for?” Hinata asks. Kageyama reveals an entire bottle of cheap vodka, some vanilla-flavored shit that probably tasted like nail polish remover and would get them smashed in about three shots. Hinata claps his hands together excitedly.

It shouldn’t mean as much to Hinata as it does—the reheated meat buns, the fading red-patterned plates; his legs over Kageyama’s thighs, keeping him warm; the scratchy old couch and revolting vodka sinking low in Hinata’s stomach, making him hot all over and light as a feather. It shouldn’t mean anything, but to Hinata, it means the world.

“This is exactly what I wanted,” Hinata murmurs happily. “This is the perfect celebratory dinner.”

Kageyama frowns and checks the bottle. “Have you been sneaking shots when I wasn’t looking?”

Hinata smacks him with his empty plate. “I’m serious! This is all I need…just the two of us, having a cheap-ass dinner together like the nasty, twenty-something kids we really are.”

“Gay,” Kageyama snorts. “And I don’t know about you, but I’m a famous Jaeger pilot who should be eating caviar and like…Swiss chocolate every night.”

“You! Are so! Full of! Shit!” Hinata laughs, smacking Kageyama with the plate to punctuate his statements.

“Stop it!” Kageyama growls, grabbing the plate from Hinata’s hands. His expression softens slightly. “I’m glad you like it, though.”

He gets up to clear their plates despite Hinata’s whining for him not to leave and complaining the whole time he’s moved twenty feet away to the kitchen. Hinata only stops carrying on when he spots the chess set Kageyama has set out on their coffee table.

“That’s for when Keiji-san comes over,” Kageyama explains, noting Hinata’s interest.

“Can we play?” Hinata asks.

Kageyama makes a face. “Do you even know _how_ to play?”

“Of course I do!” Hinata says, scandalized. He takes another drink of the vodka. “The castle is my favorite.”

“The rook,” Kageyama corrects, amused. “Alright, well, this should be an experience at least.” He nestles himself under Hinata’s legs again and pushes the chessboard within Hinata’s reach. “You go first.”

Hinata scrutinizes the board for a moment before shoving the knight forward three tiles, knocking the pawn out of the way. Kageyama takes a deep breath. Maybe this was a mistake. “Look, Shouyou, you can’t just push the knight out straight, okay? He has a certain pattern he has to follow.”

“That’s a _knight_?” Hinata says, sounding incredulous.

Hinata doesn’t know a thing about chess. He doesn’t really have any desire to learn how to play chess either, despite how enthusiastically Kageyama tries to teach him. Mostly, he just like to see Kageyama’s various frustrated and and exasperated faces. The pawns and the bishops are pretty easy to grasp, and Hinata really likes that the queen doesn’t have to obey as many rules as the others, but the knight ends up being the most fun to play with. Hinata sneaks extra tiles when Kageyama’s not paying attention and moves the pieces when he takes a drink. The fact that he rarely gets caught says something about how intoxicated Kageyama is.

It gets to the point where Hinata starts making house rules and Kageyama _agrees_ to them. “Okay, whoever can down this shot the fastest gets to switch any two pieces of the opponent’s,” Hinata declares.

“Done,” Kageyama says, throwing his shot back almost faster than Hinata in an attempt to catch him by surprise, but chokes on it and Hinata successfully finishes first. Cackling, Hinata swaps Kageyama’s rook and sacrificial pawn.

“What th—hey! Fuck you!” Kageyama snarls when he gets his breathing back under control. “That’s _cheating_!”

“Losers pay the price,” Hinata grins, leaning back smugly. “You can make the next rule.” Kageyama narrows his eyes at the challenge.

“Name four of the Los Angeles Jaegers.”

“Count backwards from thirty.”

“Imagine Ukai and Takeda fucking, and you can move one of your pieces anywhere.”

“If you tell me your dirtiest fantasy, you can use my bishop to replace the one I captured.”

“Sacrifice three pawns to turn your rook into an Ultra-Rook.”

“Bishops can evolve into queens if they check their opponent three times.”

“Fuck, marry, kill: Tyrant Omega, Gold Strike, Scrapper Nine.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Hinata blurts, a laugh surprised out of him. “You’re _sick_.”

“Wait, there’s a catch,” Kageyama interrupts, leaning towards Hinata, propped up on his elbows. “You have to guess which ones I would choose. If you get them all right, I’ll forfeit.” They both glance at the chessboard where, against all odds, their two kings circle each other relentlessly, the last two pieces on the board.

“Hmmm…” Hinata taps his chin. “Marry Omega, which is fucked up, since he’s kind of our kid, but it’d be _more_ fucked up to fuck him.” Kageyama nods.

“Um, fuck Scrapper and kill Strike,” Hinata decides finally.

“Hah! You lose!” Kageyama jeers cheerfully, knocking over Hinata’s king.

“Wait, what the hell? You would fuck _Gold Strike_?” Hinata’s jaw drops. “Why? That’s Tsukishima’s Jaeger!”

“I won’t want to put my dick anywhere near Scrapper,” Kageyama retorts. “Anything’s better than that.”

“But Scrapper is so cool!” Hinata protests. “It’s like, the _coolest_ Jaeger, if Omega didn’t exist. Strike is so boring! And I bet he smells like _Tsukishima_.”

“Okay, but Scrapper’s emblem is literally a cat. Kuroo-san and Kozume-san’s Jaeger is a _furry_. I’m not going to fuck a furry,” Kageyama snorts.

“I’m not going to argue with that, but if the other choice is _Strike_ …” Hinata makes a face. “Ah, whatever. At least you have some new strategies to use on Akaashi-san next time you play!”

“I am _not_ playing this kind of chess with Keiji-san,” Kageyama says, appalled. “We play real, grown-up chess unlike…whatever _that_ was.” Kageyama makes an aborted wave at their chessboard.

“Mhmm, sure,” Hinata agrees easily.

“I’m serious!” Kageyama insists, nudging Hinata’s shoulder where Hinata is leaning into his side.

“Yeah, alright,” Hinata says, barely holding in a laugh.

Kageyama rolls his eyes and turns away. “I’m going to do the dishes, since you clearly don’t appreciate my hobby.”

Then there are warm fingers turning his cheek back, and Hinata kisses him.

It’s short, just the pressure of lips for a breath, then away, but Kageyama follows, leaning further into Hinata. He meets Hinata’s eyes, brimming with all the love and warmth Kageyama knew he hadn’t been imagining whenever they were together, the image of a heart coming alive again. Breath is suddenly a hard commodity to come by. Hinata’s eyes flicker to Kageyama’s lips again, like they did that day in the exercise room, and every nerve in Kageyama’s body lights up. This should come as a surprise. Kageyama should be shocked by this development, but he can’t spend time thinking this over, not when Hinata is leaning back, pulling Kageyama into his gravity as Kageyama pulled him into his.

Hinata’s lips are rough from all the worrying he did over strategy, and they feel foreign against Kageyama’s softer mouth. He doesn’t care. Nothing else but touch matters when he’s settling along Hinata’s body and Hinata _wants_ him, after so long of quietly wanting Hinata, too. All of Hinata’s body burns white-hot where he touches Kageyama, hands sliding up Kageyama’s arms to grip at his back and shoulders, chest pressed to Kageyama’s chest, where the pounding of their hearts are indistinguishable. Hinata burns from head to toe—everywhere except his lips, cool and wet.

He kisses chastely but enthusiastically, alternating quick pecks and drawn-out kisses where Kageyama can feel his chest rise as he takes a breath. Then he pauses for a moment, just brushing his lips against Kageyama’s to feel them. Kageyama takes a shuddering breath at the sensation, and that’s when Hinata sucks his bottom lip into his mouth.

Kageyama groans and exhales at the feeling of Hinata’s mouth on him for real, heat that burned brighter than his touch and the feeling of teeth dragging across his lip as Hinata releases it. Kageyama meets his eyes one last time before he leans in, taking Hinata’s jaw in both his hands and tilting his head in just the right position for Kageyama to surge against him and kiss him fiercely.

Kageyama’s tongue traces the outline of Hinata’s upper lip and Hinata nips at it, slotting their mouths together so that Kageyama can swipe across the roof of his mouth. Hinata arches into him, simultaneously pulling himself up and pulling Kageyama down so they can have more, more, always more.

They don’t speak—Kageyama fears that if he says something it will break the spell they’re under, the haze of vanilla vodka and fated partnership keeping the illusion in place. Kageyama doesn’t want to lean back and come to his senses. He wants to kiss Hinata hard, wants to hear the shifts in his breathing when Kageyama does something right, wants to revel in the feeling of Hinata’s hands migrating upwards to tug at his hair.

It’s a dam break. It’s a tsunami. Kageyama has always had Hinata’s soul, but not his heart or body since the double event, and feels like coming home or finally clicking the right puzzle piece into place. Something with Hinata has always _clicked_ in Kageyama, has always made him overflow with love and devotion in a way he can’t contain once he gets a taste of what he wants. He’s a shark with the scent of blood in his nose, ravenous and desperate, and this time, Hinata gives as good as he gets.

Hinata twines their tongues together, holding Kageyama in the kiss until he’s breathless. They pull apart with a wet _pop_ that echoes in the suddenly silent room, a line of saliva connecting Kageyama’s lip to Hinata’s tongue peeking between parted lips. Half-lidded eyes taunt Kageyama as Hinata leans back, exhaling softly. Kageyama doesn’t know if Hinata is baiting him or not, but the line of his jaw and the pale skin of his neck is glorious, and Kageyama wants him.

He noses along Hinata’s jaw, pressing his mouth to that same spot under Hinata’s ear that he kissed so long ago. Hinata’s breath catches—he remembers it too. He kisses the patch of skin gently, following it up with the scrape of teeth in a soft bite that makes Hinata gasp aloud and press his body into Kageyama again.

Down his neck, Kageyama litters Hinata’s skin with bites marks and bruises, evidence of the way Kageyama sucks and pulls at his neck, possessive. They’re still in the fantasy, the suspension of reality, but Kageyama will make sure that Hinata remembers this in the morning. Kageyama leaves a line of hickeys under the slop of Hinata’s collarbones, one for every character in their names, _Hinata Shouyou, Kageyama Tobio_. He thinks that maybe Hinata’s frantic scratching at his back scrawls their names across his skin too, in the raised lines of pink flesh that would last through morning. _Hinata Shouyou, Kageyama Tobio._

Kageyama pushes up Hinata nightshirt, tracing his fingers over the flushed skin, fingers following the path of his gaze sweeping over Hinata’s body, putting touch sensation to the image. He rests his hands flat against Hinata’s ribcage, just for a moment, to marvel at how small Hinata was when it really came down to it. Kageyama feels a surge of something unyielding and protective rising inside him. A revelation. A resolution. _I am never not going to be in love with you,_ Kageyama thinks, wondering maybe if he thinks it hard enough, Hinata will hear him even without the Ghost Drift.

He doesn’t, but Hinata moves of his own accord to cup Kageyama’s jaw and pull his face back up to meet Hinata’s. Hinata smiles into the kiss, taking it slow and hot, the kind of kiss that made fire pool low in Kageyama’s belly and left his hands to grip at Hinata’s sides for dear life as Hinata melted him down and poured him into a mold of his own design, shaping Kageyama as he pleased, casting him in iron, and sharpened his devotion to Hinata until it was a weapon all on its own.

 _This is it,_ Kageyama thinks. _This is our final move against the kaiju, the ultimate checkmate._ _There is no weapon they can throw at us, no plan they can make, no way in hell that they can beat us when we have **this** to fight for, when we can have this moment and each other even when the Precursors are breathing down our necks. They can’t win. We can’t beat them, but they cannot win against us._

 _We are stronger than our fate to die,_ Kageyama tells Hinata silently. _You will not fall. I will not allow it. It doesn’t matter what it takes, what forces of nature we must defy, what laws governing our physical forms decree—Hinata Shouyou, you will not die. And neither will I._

Oblivious to Kageyama’s thoughts, Hinata pulls away gently, hands moving to Kageyama’s shoulders to tug him onto the couch. Kageyama is jerked from his musings and blinks down at Hinata, confused, but when Hinata makes a tiny noise and yawns, Kageyama understands. He sinks down against the back of the couch and pulls Hinata into his chest. Hinata makes a pleased noise and snuggled closer. Kageyama hooks his leg around Hinata’s knees and tugs his legs closer so that Kageyama can cocoon himself around Hinata protectively. Unaware of Kageyama’s revelations, Hinata falls asleep in a matter of minutes, a smile on his face. Kageyama stays up for another hour at least, watching the rise and fall of Hinata’s chest, thinking.

Kageyama doesn’t remember exactly when he fell asleep, but he is very rudely awakened when Hinata breathes in his face, smelling like alcohol and the beginnings of a hangover. Kageyama scowls and blinks his eyes open blearily, squinting at Hinata in irritation, all gentleness from the night gone from him until he sees the way Hinata looks at him, soft and fond and still wrapped tightly in his arms.

He wants to ask the important questions right away. _What happened?_ _What are we? Are you okay with everything we did?_ Before he can, however, Hinata starts headbutting him. “Food, food, Tobio,” he whines. “I want waffles, Tobio. Make me waffles, Tobio.”

“God, you are so annoying,” Kageyama sighs instead, figuring the important questions can at least wait until after breakfast. He climbs over Hinata, who giggles at their mess of arms and legs like a _kid_ or something. Kageyama throws a blanket at him. “Keep warm, stupid.” He wishes it didn’t sound as affectionate as it does.

Waffles are pretty easy to make, at least, and Kageyama throws in some chocolate chips because he knows it’ll make Hinata happy. While he waits for the first waffle to cook in the waffle maker, Kageyama fetches Hinata a change of clothes and his wheelchair. Hinata has entertained himself by making a funeral for his fallen king on the chessboard, and it’s cute enough to make Kageyama snort.

“Here,” he says, offering Hinata the change of clothes. “You need any help?”

“Nope!” Hinata says cheerfully. “You just take care of those waffles.” He’s already muscling his way out of his pants, so Kageyama leaves him to it.

By the time he has four waffles cooked and laid out on plates, syrup at the ready, Hinata has rolled up to the table, drumming his fingers against the fake wood eagerly. He gasps. “Chocolate chips? But I thought we were out.”

Kageyama puts the plate in front of him. “I got more since I figured you’d nag me to do it when you got back, sooner or later.” That wasn’t true. He had already been planning on making Hinata waffles before Hinata even asked. Who the hell needed the Ghost Drift anyway? Kageyama was too good.

The whole time he’s eating though, Kageyama feels eyes on him. Hinata peers at him and doesn’t even bother with being too secretive about it. The air between them is content but heavy with the promise of a _something_ to come, whatever that _something_ was. It’s on the tip of his tongue, ready to come up at breaks in between bites, but Kageyama can’t quite bring himself to disrupt the peaceful air around them.

“Tobio,” Hinata starts, beating him to it. Kageyama look up and swallows, readying himself for anything.

“I want to go see Omega today,” Hinata says, and all the tension leaves Kageyama’s body. It was impossible that he was the only one feeling the atmosphere in their quarters, right? Was Hinata being purposefully oblivious?

“Sure,” he agrees, deciding that the past twenty four hours have been too ridiculous to deal with all at once. What was one more distraction?

The base is bustling by the time they head out. It surprises Kageyama, in a way, that the world didn’t stop after Hinata kissed him. No one stops them in the hallway to ask if Hinata was a good kisser (he was) or ogles them, whispering to their friends about them (Kageyama would punch them). Kageyama realizes very slowly what a childish notion it was to think that the world revolved around him and Hinata kissing, but considering the fact that he hadn’t stopped thinking about since it happened, he decides to cut himself a break.

Fate must be on their side, as they don’t run into anyone they know all the way into the Shatterdome. It’s even more packed in there with all the final updates and preparations going down. Kageyama feels a little anxious, having Hinata caught up in the rush of wartime, but Hinata seems pleased with it all, rolling himself along and pleasantly apologizing to anyone he gets in the way of.

“I love the Shatterdome,” Hinata tells Kageyama. “It doesn’t matter how important or unimportant you are in here—everyone has a job and a place to be. No one has time to worry about things like rank and formality when there’s Jaegers to work on.”

Predictably, Hinata coos over Tyrant Omega when he sees him, like one of those particularly annoying mothers who brag about their kid’s achievements to everyone, regardless of whether anyone wanted to hear it. Kageyama catches the way he flinches slightly at the tearing in Omega’s Conn-Pod where it had been ripped open to rescue them. The necessary redesign of the Conn-Pod was fortunate in that Noya and Tanaka could design a new command platform for Hinata, but at the cost that Hinata would have to force a smile when he saw it.

“I’m going to Drift again,” Hinata says to himself, like he can’t believe it. His smile is fierce with determination. Kageyama thinks about how Hinata practically willed himself better, how he spit in the face of all his odds.

“Hinata,” Kageyama calls, drawing Hinata’s attention back to him. And in front of all the staff milling around the Shatterdome, Kageyama presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

Hinata blinks in surprise, but he’s not upset by it. “Oh? What was that for?” He asks.

“About last night,” Kageyama begins. “I don’t want it to be a mistake, or a one-night stand, or anything like that. I want you to hear my feelings loud and clear, sober.”

Hinata tilts his head to the side, thoughtful. “Okay,” he agrees.

“I love you,” Kageyama says, his voice cracking a little. “As I have for so long. I don’t want you to feel pressure to return my feelings or anything ridiculous like that—I have already decided that I will stay by your side until you want me gone, regardless of how you feel about me. But I also think that I can’t bury this away and hide it, Ghost Drift or not. I love you, Shouyou.”

Hinata is very, very quiet. His face gives nothing away, other than a slow blink, taking Kageyama’s words in and turning them over in his mind. Kageyama has a moment of anxiety, thinking somehow he’s read this situation all wrong, but then Hinata speaks up.

“You’ve really thought this over, huh?” It’s a rhetorical question. “You know, Tobio, whenever things got really bad when I was getting off of the neurodrugs, whenever I really felt like I wanted to quit, to give in and go back to depending on the drugs to hold myself together, I remembered your crying face. Or your hurt face. Your anxious one, your scared one, your worried one. I remembered each and every time I caused you to look like that.” Hinata shrugs one shoulder. “That’s what got me better.”

“I don’t understand,” Kageyama says.

Hinata smiles at him. “I thought to myself ‘I have to get better. I can never let myself be the cause of those faces ever again. I won’t make Tobio worry anymore.’ It was a great motivator. You see, Tobio, as touched as I am to have seen every side of you that I can, every piece of Kageyama Tobio that you will allow me to know, I like your smiling and laughing face the best. I like to see you glowing with life and love.

“I never stopped loving you,” Hinata admits softly. “We just needed the time to be right, to know each other just a little better.”

Kageyama sucks in a breath and holds it, worried he might cry. “F-Fuck,” he says finally. “For a second I really, really thought you were going to turn me down.”

“Please,” Hinata scoffs playfully, rolling his eyes. “As fun as it is to cuddle with other people, I don’t let just anyone mark me up like you did last night.”

Kageyama’s ears are _red_. “Nothing like the end of the world to prove romance isn’t dead,” he mumbles, and Hinata laughs loud enough to draw the attention of nearby mechanics.

“Get down here,” Hinata orders, still laughing. “I want to kiss you again, in front of all these people.”

Kageyama does.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'whoa dang who's that momoe chick who used to be ukai's co-pilot?? why are you throwing in oc's!!!' WELL ACTUALLY [DRAMATICALLY PULLS ASIDE CURTAIN] did you know that bfmtias takes place in the same universe as [**'break on the willow shore,'**](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2430890/chapters/5381657) the oofuri pacific rim au? NOW YOU DO! botws is the direct sequel to bfmtias, set seven years after the end of my fic, as decreed by sam (the author and my queerplatonic) and i. give it a read--it is AMAZING! (if my hints weren't obvious, momoe is from oofuri--she's the coach!)
> 
> as is apparent from the chapter, hinata is officially a disabled character, and as an able-bodied person, i don't know what it's like to be disabled. i've done some research into paraplegia, but obviously, that doesn't make up for real experience so should i have any disabled persons in my audience who see something that makes you go 'wrong, wrong, this is so fucking wrong,' please talk to me about it? i don't want to offend anyone or treat disabled persons poorly in my fic. that's all, thank you for reading!


	12. so goodnight gravity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we will just pretend the last time i updated wasn't last chapter (nearly 3000 kudos!?!?!?!?!!!)
> 
> we're almost there, people! the entire climax of this monstrous fic is next chapter! until then, enjoy the wrap-up of loose ends and some funny scenes, some serious scenes, and a smutty scene :3 (minor edits. i'm tired.)
> 
> as for fan works based on bfmtias, i've decided to add an entire "chapter" dedicated to them! my tumblr isn't nearly comprehensive enough for all the work you lovely readers have done, so i'd like to pay homage to your hard work somewhere where everyone can see it.

“So, Keiji—how do I look?”

Akaashi glances up from where they’re adjusting their belt to see Bokuto posed, thumbs to his chest, in what might possibly be the most ridiculous outfit Akaashi had ever seen him in. Hiding under his slick leather jacket (the one that frames his shoulders real nice and makes Akaashi’s mouth go dry) is one of those Jaeger fanboy shirts. ‘ROCK ‘EM SOCK ‘EM JAEGERS’ it proudly declares, with a Jaeger punching the skull right off a kaiju. It’s a dweeby nerd shirt. It suits Bokuto perfectly.

Fighting down a smile with a small cough, Akaashi gives Bokuto what they hope is a thoughtful nod. “Very nice, Koutarou. Very you.”

“Isn’t it though?” Bokuto chirps, pleased with himself. He turns back to the mirror, flexing and striking different poses, a goofy smile on his face. Akaashi’s heart flutters pleasantly.

“Honestly,” they sigh. “You all are so carefree. The state of the world right now isn’t anything to make light of.” The severity of their words are tempered with a small smile and the fond shake of their head.

“Aww, come on, Keiji,” Bokuto says, slinging an arm around their shoulders. “Can’t we have a little break from the seriousness?”

Akaashi raises an eyebrow. “That’s what this outing is all about.”

They nearly jump a foot when Bokuto releases them to squish their cheeks into an undignified fish-face. Akaashi squeaks and squirms in Bokuto's grasp. Grinning, Bokuto plants a sloppy kiss on their lips and dances away when Akaashi swats at him.

“K-Kou!” Akaashi protests, wiping their mouth, face screwed up.

Bokuto lets out a booming laugh. “There! Now you’re in the spirit of things!”

“Disgusting,” Akaashi grumbles even as they walk back over to Bokuto and hug him, nuzzling affectionately at the crook between his neck and shoulders.

His laugh is softer this time. “Tickles,” he says softly, but embraces Akaashi back. Akaashi notes with just the slightest concern that Bokuto holds them tighter than usual. Thoughtfully, Akaashi runs their hands up and down Bokuto's back. Despite the worrying signs, Bokuto is warm as always. Especially his hands. Akaashi relishes the heat radiating from Bokuto’s hands, lets it sink through their clothes to warm them from the outside in. The two of them close their eyes for a moment and just exist in each other’s arms.

He was starting to get better.

Akaashi knows that the Bokuto that stands before him now, smiling and joking and puffing himself up, comes at a high cost. Even ignoring past trauma still fresh as newly fallen snow in their minds, even ignoring the countdown of the days until the clock in the Shatterdome stopped forever, even pretending that this day would be one of the last happy ones in their lives, Bokuto’s happiness comes at a cost. Kuroo is not lost to Bokuto, not in the sense that he is dead or has forsaken their relationship, but he is lost to Bokuto in the sense that there is a divide between them. For once in his life, there is a seemingly unbreachable gorge in their hearts and a hurt neither are sure how to fix.

This is, of course, just the impression Akaashi gets after being connected at the mind to Bokuto for so long and listening to his restless ponderings about Kuroo until he falls asleep, night after night. It’s all a bit melodramatic, if someone were to ask Akaashi, but then again, there are few words that describe Bokuto better than ‘melodramatic,’ especially when someone he loves is involved. And to be fair, this _was_ their first real fight since they had met.

Akaashi had no intention of helping either Kuroo or Bokuto in this matter, and they had ensured that Kenma wouldn’t, either. The two of them would be by their partners’ sides to support them and offer them love and a shoulder to cry on, but it was up to Bokuto and Kuroo themselves to figure out how to repair their relationship.

 _It’s for the best, too,_ Akaashi assures themself. _Their bond will become even stronger once they have overcome conflict._

So Akaashi gives Bokuto a tight squeeze before pulling out of the hug, appreciating that Bokuto is putting on his big-boy pants and wearing a smile even if it hurt him a little to pretend everything was just fine. _He’ll do well,_ Akaashi thinks, confident. _He just needs time._

“Shall we?” Akaashi suggests, raising an eyebrow.

“Wait!” Bokuto’s voice gives Akaashi pause, and Bokuto darts past them to grab something Akaashi can’t make out. When he returns, he slips the item—a scarf—around the back of Akaashi’s head and pulls it snug against Akaashi’s throat. His fingers (warm, warm, _warm_ ) linger against Akaashi’s skin, twitching upwards to brush a stray curl of hair from Akaashi’s face and tuck it behind their ear.

“It’s not cold enough for scarves yet, Koutarou,” Akaashi says, voice dropping low as the space between them suddenly becomes intimate and delicate. “It’s only autumn.”

Bokuto huffs fondly. Akaashi can feel the vibration through the hands that have drifted down to rest on their shoulders. “It’ll be chilly walking back from town,” Bokuto explains. “Can’t have my Keiji turning into a Keiji-sicle now, can I? I’ve only got one of you.”

His voice falters, just a little, and his grip tightens. Just a little. “I’ve only got…one.”

Akaashi blinks slowly and adjusts the scarf, tucking it tighter into their own jacket. “I suppose it has been getting colder lately. Perhaps winter is coming earlier this year.” In the process of fixing the scarf, Akaashi accidentally dislodges Bokuto’s hands.

“That could be,” Bokuto considers, laughing off his pause. “Maybe it’ll get so cold this winter that the oceans freeze over and the kaiju can’t break through.”

“That _would_ make our jobs considerably easier,” Akaashi concedes. “Hypotheticals aside, I must say since we’re moving out the door at such a glacial pace, our friends may think us frozen or otherwise occupied and abandon us. Let’s go.” Akaashi takes a step towards the door.

“Keiji—” Bokuto's voice is distressed, and Akaashi turns, only to be caught in the hard press of a kiss. He kisses too hard, too desperate for Akaashi to do more than cup the hands on their cheeks as Bokuto kisses them over and over.

Akaashi eases back from Bokuto a bit, enough to calm him down, to slow the pace of his kissing. “Kou?” Akaashi questions, barely a whisper.

Bokuto's smile shakes. His hands slide down Akaashi’s cheeks, brushing down their jaw to settle at the crook of Akaashi’s neck. Bokuto's thumbs rub against the pulse points in Akaashi’s neck with great delicacy. “It’s nothing,” he lies, like Akaashi couldn’t tell.

Akaashi smooths the lapels of his jacket. “The world isn’t ending tonight,” they say, insightful as ever into the mind of their beloved. Bokuto had a knack for bottling up the things that bothered him until they boiled over in one ugly, hysterical mess but fortunately, Akaashi had a knack for navigating the deceptively complex mess of Bokuto and defusing him before he ever had time to go off.

That’s why Akaashi leans in again to kiss Bokuto, warm and slow, reminding him that Akaashi was _there_ , they existed, and they weren’t going anywhere. Bokuto holds the kiss as long as his lungs allow it, then breathes out just as slow, sucking in another, calmer breath. The façade trembles as his expression darkens, but it clears a moment later and Bokuto wears a small but genuine smile.

“You ready to hear the infamous Tsukiyama duet?” Bokuto asks, smothering a laugh.

“Oh, I’m far more worried about the Tananoya duet myself,” Akaashi groans. “Perhaps Koushiwara-san will sing for us again. At least we can be assured he has a lovely voice.” Karaoke, much like the sync tests or Kwoon Room training, is a rite of passage for all Rangers, at least at the Miyagi and Tokyo bases. And Seogwipo in South Korea, now that Bokuto and Akaashi have sunk their claws into them.

Really, it’s just an excuse to embarrass the new kids and team bond.

Akaashi and Bokuto step out of their quarters and make for the base’s northwest exit to join the rest of their party. Akaashi tuts at the time, noting that they are running late and will doubtlessly face chastisement from the less patient members of their multi-profession friend group (so essentially, Tanaka and Noya). The further they get from their room, the more elated Bokuto becomes, smile widening until it overtakes his face, the volume of his voice increasing, skipping ahead and—

Bokuto gracelessly crashes into another person, having been walking backwards and therefore not paying attention to anyone around him. Akaashi hurries forward, an apology on the tip of their tongue, until they register just who Bokuto slammed, and the words freeze in their throat.

Unaware, Bokuto spins around. “Oh hell, I am so sor—”

Akaashi is helpless, watching the change on Bokuto's face from apologetic to absolutely horrified in slow motion. Kuroo looks just as panicked, stumbling to the side, limbs stiff as a board. Their eyes do not leave each other, even though their posture screams discomfort and _fear_ , a fear so profound and fragile that Akaashi’s heart breaks for them.

However, Akaashi is not frozen in place like they are, and a swift survey of the hallway crossing reveals Kenma, gripping their 3DS so tightly Akaashi can see the whites of their knuckles. Akaashi doesn’t need the Ghost Drift to read the look Kenma sends them. _What the fuck do we do?!_

If they could find any words to make this situation better, Akaashi would say them. But their mouth closes and they straighten up, nodding to Kenma to do the same. Kenma raises their eyebrows and looks away, dubious, but doesn’t intervene. They don’t know what to do, either. Instead, Akaashi moves to Kenma’s side, for both of their comfort. There was a chance that this encounter could end up…ugly.

Bokuto's lips are still parted, trembling. He wants desperately to say something, but he can’t form a single coherent thought in his head, all he can do is look at Kuroo like a ghost or a saint, unsure if he’s been cursed or blessed by his presence. Kuroo’s eyes move first, darting down to observe the shaking in Bokuto's lips, and then, he speaks.

“I…” Kuroo’s voice is rough and scratchy, the sandpaper of a cat’s tongue, the harshness of sleepless nights. Bokuto reads this from him with one word and flinches violently.

_He did this._

“I’m sorry,” Bokuto rasps, then turns on his heel. He’s a coward, a big fat coward, but he can’t see Kuroo like that, hurting, and know it was his doing. It burns his throat and eyes like acid. He has to run away, escape to somewhere he can breathe and cry and regret.

“No, Kou, wait—” Kuroo grabs his arm and hauls him back before Bokuto is even a step away. He pulls Bokuto into his space, stepping forward so they’re chest to chest, but even from that close, all Bokuto can see is a blur of shiny black— _a leather jacket to match his, fuck fuck fuck…_

There’s a finger thumbing at his eyes, gentler than he deserves. “Why are you crying?” Kuroo asks softly. Funny, Bokuto hadn’t even realized he was crying, even though the salt burned his cheeks and his face hurt.

“I _hurt_ you,” Bokuto says, voice coming out wet and pathetic and all wrong. “I said all those nasty things—”

“No, no Kou, you were right,” Kuroo argues, shaking his head. “Kenma and I acted like monsters, I know we did—”

“No!” Bokuto yells this, fist thumping against Kuroo’s chest. “You were _trying_! All I’ve ever done is follow orders. I never thought outside the box. I never took a risk. Instead of treating the symptoms, you were trying to cure the disease. Of course there would be collateral, that doesn’t mean you don’t care! I was blinded by my own fear; I can’t imagine what you sacrificed to actually _do_ something, even if it meant going around regulation.”

The fist that had been bumping Kuroo’s chest falls to clutch at his jacket, its twin joining on the other side. Bokuto presses his forehead against Kuroo’s chest, closing his eyes to drip tears onto his best friend. “I’m so tired and so afraid of losing anyone else,” he whispers. “That doesn’t mean I should take it out on you.”

Kuroo arms come around him in a slow, sliding embrace, like Bokuto might shatter before his very eyes if he was too rough. “I accept your apology,” Kuroo says. “I shouldn’t have lied to you, though, even by omission. I held things back from you and took risks that were stupid.” He lifts Bokuto's head. “But you know…I’m scared, too. That’s why I did everything I did. I don’t want to lose you or Kenma or any of our friends. I love you.”

Bokuto lets out a whining, muffled sob. “I love you too, Tetsu.”

Kuroo kisses Bokuto's forehead firmly, and Bokuto breaks from his hold to wrap Kuroo in a bear hug that surprises a cough out of him. Kuroo doesn’t hesitate, though. He hugs Bokuto back just as hard, wrapping around each other as close as they can. Bokuto is warm, overflowing with love and affection, and Kuroo is cool, tempering and steadying Bokuto. They flow in each other’s veins as surely as their partners—they would never truly be parted.

_I never want to hurt him again, Keiji._

_I won’t let us fight like this again, Kenma._

Neither Akaashi nor Kenma are prone to outbursts of emotion or affection, but their hands slide together, fingers interlocking, and from how tightly they hold onto each other, they can tell how grateful and relieved the other feels. They exchange glances, Kenma biting their lip in a vain effort to keep down a smile and Akaashi with their own slight quirk of their lips. Akaashi hadn’t realized how stressed they had been until they saw their worries reflected in Kenma’s expression, but in the end, peace was with them once more, as well as the solace in linked hands and the understanding of a soulmate.

And then, the blinding light of the setting sun left them wincing and squinting as Noya threw open the door at the end of the hallway. “Well?” He growls, as if the four had somehow personally offended him. “Are you coming or not? Katy Perry won’t wait forever!”

“On second thought,” Kuroo says dryly, “I think I have a blender to stick my head in.”

Noya squawks in indignation, but it’s worth it to feel the rumble of Bokuto's laugh against his chest, tucked tight against Kuroo where he belonged. Across the constant thrum of their connection, Kuroo feels Kenma’s mind calm, no longer stressed by the turbulence of Kuroo’s. The evening air rushing in smells fresh and sweet with the promise of a night of joy. He breathes in, letting the air fill his lungs and cleanse the last dregs of misery and hurt from his heart.

Kuroo doesn’t need to look at Bokuto to guess what he’s thinking, but he does anyway because it feels good to see his best friend smile again. “Let’s go anyway,” Bokuto suggests, smiling and parting from Kuroo only far enough to slip his arm around Kuroo’s waist. There’s a question in that smile and gesture, a feathery nervousness to Bokuto's touch that asks Kuroo if everything is truly okay—after all, they had never fought before. Bokuto wants, no, _needs_ to know if this is okay.

Kuroo slips his arm around Bokuto's waist as well, a resounding _yes, always yes_.

 

\-------------------------

 

Late fall in Miyagi reminds Yamaguchi of a predator—a big cat in the tall grass, waiting to strike. It’s on the edge of uncomfortably quiet, the sounds of insects and birds muted by the cold, but not the dead still of winter. The air is sharp, snapping Yamaguchi to attention and keeping him awake and alert even on his most tiring days. It’s the feeling of something about to happen; a shift in the balance of the nature; a turning of the tides.

For a Ranger pursued constantly by alien monsters larger than life, the feeling of late fall isn’t exactly comforting.

“Feels dangerous out, doesn’t it, Kei?” Yamaguchi asks in a breathless whisper, whipping his head around excitedly, exhales creating tiny clouds around them, like the puffing of a steam engine. Sure, the metaphor could be unsettling, but Yamaguchi is surrounded on all sides by his friends, the best Jaeger pilots in all Japan. Couldn’t get much safer than that.

“It sure does,” Tsukishima replies drily as Tanaka and Noya tear by them, feet slapping the pavement and echoing down the otherwise empty road. They holler like caged animals set free, scarves trailing behind them, victory banners. And then, the true terror flies by.

Hot on their tail, Hinata cackles, trailing them in his own custom motorized wheelchair. Not that anyone could really call it a wheelchair, given that it was faster than a motor scooter, maneuvered by sensitive changes to Hinata’s posture, and painted with elaborate wings down the sides. He speeds and skids like a joyriding twelve-year-old.

Also, it had rocket boosters, no doubt Noya’s addition to make Hinata’s gift ‘totally awesome!’

“Creation turns on creator,” Tsukishima notes, voice still flat and long-suffering as Hinata speeds past Noya and Tanaka, reaching out to ruffle their heads as he passes. As someone who valued his freedom and independence as much as his life, Tanaka and Noya’s gift had Hinata shining brightly again and back to his old mischief. Without the handicap of a slow-moving wheelchair putting the brakes on him, Hinata could agitate and aggravate the staff of the base just as much if not more than when his legs functioned.

Yamaguchi grins. “Aw, what’s with the long face, Kei? It’s nice that he can zip around again.” (Yamaguchi, of course, is only playing dumb. The memory of Hinata blasting a confetti cannon in Tsukishima’s face on his birthday and then wheeling away much quicker than Tsukishima could pursue him is still fresh in both their minds. Yamaguchi withholds a snicker.)

“Just because he can’t walk doesn’t mean I will refrain from beating him into the ground,” Tsukishima growls, but silences his complaints when the sounds of their friends’ low conversations reach him. Bokuto and Kuroo, twined together like two lovers—or…whatever the hell they were; Akaashi and Kenma, clasped hands swinging between them, silent except for the occasional comment; Asahi and Kageyama flanking Koushi protectively, two tall men shielding their precious (and amused) guest of honor.

“It’s a shame the ladies didn’t come with,” Yamaguchi observes, noting Tsukishima’s sudden self-consciousness. “It would be nice to have some talented singers amongst our group of mangy young men, Koushi, Akaashi, and Kenma.”

“Keiji-san used to play violin,” Tsukishima remarks. “It’s a shame they won’t sing—they may be quite talented, seeing as they’re the only one with any musical background.”

“Ah, can’t find any faults with Keiji-san, can we?” Yamaguchi teases, enjoying the way Tsukishima’s head snaps around to give him a dirty look. “Well, perhaps you best serenade them yourself.”

“Maybe I _will_ ,” Tsukishima grumbles, adjusting his coat and jutting out his chin.

Yamaguchi’s smile widens. Goad Tsukishima into singing, check. This was going to be _fun_.

The base’s secluded location means that the closest town is little more than a glorified fishing village. The houses that line the streets are all original structures, ancient and leaking. Weeds sprout up through cracks in the pavement and bicycles rather than cars are the main form of transportation. And yet, the dim lighting from grimy streetlamps and homes and family businesses on both sides of the street feels warmer to Yamaguchi than any of the blinding fluorescents that cast a sickly glow on the base’s inhabitants.

Or maybe it was just the trees and the air and sounds of companionship around him, filling his heart with joy and homeliness, even in a strange place. Yamaguchi wants to run and shout—in that moment, he truly understands Hinata and Tanaka and Noya. There’s no formality or responsibility where they are now, almost as if they had stepped into another dimension, one where every day could be spent this carefree. Another place and time where they could be a team without the weight of the world on their shoulders, walking home and chatting about school and dinner and what tomorrow’s practice would be like—

“Oi,” Tsukishima prompts, nudging Yamaguchi with his shoulder. “Quit looking down. If you’re sad, it’ll upset Hinata and make a mess of everything.”

“Hmm? Oh, don’t worry about me, Kei, I’m just lost in my thoughts again,” Yamaguchi covers, smiling guiltily.

For a second, Tsukishima regards him. Yamaguchi thinks he’ll accept the explanation, leave Yamaguchi to mull over whatever is on his mind, but instead Tsukishima turns away and mutters, “Penny for your thoughts?”

“You know, I never understood that saying,” Yamaguchi responds cheerfully. “What does American coinage have to do with—”

“Tadashi, what’s wrong?” Tsukishima asks more firmly, although his questions always sound more like demands.

Yamaguchi can’t meet his eyes. “The trees are very beautiful,” he murmurs, finally. “It’s a shame we won’t be around to see them in all their splendor.”

Tsukishima is quiet. Yamaguchi doesn’t say anything after that, the cool air taking on a sudden chill that sinks through his thin jacket and into his bones.

“After the war,” Tsukishima sighs, his posture relaxing, “we can buy a house like one of these, somewhere with lots of trees that you can watch for however long you please. Missing one season isn’t the end of the world, Tadashi, don’t be so dramatic.” He clicks his tongue for good measure.

It startles a laugh out of Yamaguchi. Leave it to Tsukishima to understand him in a moment and then disregard his concerns in the next. That was okay. Yamaguchi needs Tsukishima to beat the wind from his sails sometimes, before Yamaguchi gets carried away with an idea and dragged out into deep water. A perfectly imperfect complement to Yamaguchi, whose job it is to remove the stick from Tsukishima’s ass sometimes.

“It must be cabin fever,” Yamaguchi laughs. “Got me dreaming about the open air and running away.”

“What are you, a kid?” Tsukishima scoffs. “Why don’t you do something childish, like sing a song in front of all your peers?”

“Is that a joke? Did Tsukishima Kei make a _joke_?” Yamaguchi gapes, dramatically clutching his chest and pretending to faint. “Call the papers, this one’s a headline.”

“Shut it, Tadashi.”

“You big _hypocrite_. You even said you would sing tonight!”

“I did _not_.”

“Did so. While you were defending Keiji-san’s honor.”

“Fine, you sing a duet with me and we’ll call it even.”

“Aw, Kei…if you wanted to sing with me, you could’ve just ask— _ow!_ ”

At the door to the karaoke bar, Hinata makes a face as Tanaka and Noya maneuver his wheelchair over the edge of the entrance. “Why do they have to be so gross?” Hinata mutters, nodding at Tsukishima and Yamaguchi, heads tucked closed together and arms brushing as they argued, both bright-eyed and clearly enjoying themselves.

Tanaka glances up for a moment before making a retching noise. “Oh, _nasty_. God, it’s like every pair of Rangers feel the need to shove their tongues down each other’s throats in one way or another 24/7—no offense intended, Hinata.”

“None taken,” Hinata replies. “Besides, Tobio and I aren’t like that…yet.” He gets a silly look on his face—euphoria mixed with anticipation—that makes his companions groan in unison.

“Oh for god’s sake—”

“Just leave him, Ryuu. The guy’s clearly got _cooties_.”

“ _Kageyama_ cooties.”

“The worst kind.”

Hinata ignores Noya’s self-satisfied nod and Tanaka’s quicker nods of agreement to reach a hand out to his own partner who shifted from Koushi’s side to his, leaning down to kiss the corner of Hinata’s mouth. Hinata makes a small noise of pleasant surprise. Kageyama had been far more forward lately than Hinata ever anticipated. It was both frightening and exhilarating.

“Whoa,” he says simply, and Kageyama flushes.

“Shut it,” he grumbles, ruffling Hinata’s hair fondly.

Well. Maybe they weren’t all that different from Tsukishima and Yamaguchi after all.

 

\--------------------------------------

 

Much like Moniwa and Aone’s small town bar, the karaoke bar was a hole-in-the-wall, Nowheresville local hit. The paint might have been peeling, the air might have smelled a little too much like sweat, but the bass sound of a good time pulsed through every room, packed to the brim with locals. They smiled and whispered as the Rangers passed. The recognition makes Yamaguchi smile. Sometimes he forgot they were celebrities.

The bar’s owner had of course, reserved them a room and provided free drinks for their service to not only the coastal town but to the entire country. _It’s the least I can do,_ she said to them, bowing low and receiving bows in return.

“It’s not kindness,” Kuroo stage-whispers. “She just wants to see all of us try to cram into one room together.”

The owner laughs along with the pilots. “Only the best for the hardworking veterans of our country.” True to Kuroo’s supposition, cramming eleven full-grown, muscular soldiers and Hinata’s tricked out wheelchair proved to be a hilarious affair.

“Reverse clown car,” Noya snickers, squashing himself comfortably against Asahi, who was trying with all his might not to flatten Koushi against Kageyama with his shoulder.

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Hinata says to Akaashi and Tanaka, who were trying to position his wheelchair against the table. “I’ll just sit in Kageyama’s lap.” Tsukishima makes a gagging noise as Hinata wiggles free and launches his upper body into Kageyama’s lap. “Hi,” he says breathlessly.

“How old are you, twelve?” Kageyama says, rolling his eyes but nevertheless helping Hinata straighten up. Yamaguchi pulls Tsukishima in beside them against his will. Bokuto, Kuroo, and Tanaka join Noya in creating a louder and louder cacophony of ridiculousness, starting a war chant while draped over each other. And stationing themselves neatly by the door in case of escape, Akaashi and Kenma settled in together.

After that, everything went downhill.

Tanaka and Noya, unsurprisingly, made it their mission to dominate the karaoke, foregoing alcohol altogether in order to snatch the microphone.

“No, _no_!” Koushi groans. “Please don’t try to—okay, it’s too late.”

The scientists pull the hoods of their jackets low over their eyes and put on sunglasses they had been hiding in their pockets. Then, maxing out the echo function, Tanaka begins to do his best to beatbox the rhythm of the selected song. Considering he was musically inept, the resulting sound has Tsukishima banging his head against the table. Noya, tone deaf and volume insensitive, makes everything worse by rapping as loudly as he can to the American song. In English. With words he barely knew.

“I want to die,” Kageyama says, voice hoarse with shock. Somehow, Koushi hears him and puts a comforting hand on his shoulder. Hinata hears none of this, adding the occasional screech or “guwaaa!’ or ‘HOGYAAA!’ to the mess.

Bokuto and Kuroo eventually manage to snatch the microphone from Noya and Tanaka by virtue of being bigger, stronger, and drunker. Typically, drunkenness would not work in their favor, but they were on A Mission to sing the most romantic song they could think of.

“Every night, in my dreams, I see you, I feeeeel you,” Kuroo croons, batting his eyelashes at Bokuto and clutching his chest.

“Near, far, wherever you are—I believe that the heart does go on,” Bokuto sings, clutching Kuroo’s face and accidentally poking him in the eye. It takes a little after the first chorus for them to burst into tears, and then finishing the second chorus for them to forego singing altogether and begin making out.

“Avert your eyes, child,” Noya says to Asahi, covering his eyes.

“Yuu, we literally had sex last night,” Asahi says tiredly.

“Shh…” Noya says, removing one hand to place a finger over Asashi’s lips. Asahi sighs in resignation.

Koushi—thankfully—takes the microphone next to save the gathering from bleeding out their ears. He chooses a slow, sensual song, cheeks turning pink when Akaashi makes a noise of recognition at the title. He glances timidly around him, but is met by encouraging blinks and smiles. So, Koushi sings.

His voice is low, still a little unsure, but pretty in an unassuming way. It smooths the ruffled feathers of the group and calms down the noisy idiots. Hinata and Yamaguchi sigh dreamily. Koushi closes his eyes and tarts to feel the music a little more, swaying and moving his shoulders in time to the music. Kuroo whistles, and Koushi throws him a sly wink at the end that makes Kuroo choke on his beer.

Kenma and Tsukishima snicker while Bokuto belts out a laugh and Koushi hides his eyes in Asahi’s arm, embarrassed at his own actions. “You go next,” Koushi whines. “I’ll pick your song, just. Distract them.”

Asahi pats him on the back and agrees, because he’s a trusting fool.

Asahi doesn’t know the song that Koushi selects, but he trusts Koushi. It has an interesting name, something about ‘black’ and ‘nightmare’ by ‘death’ something. Innocently, Koushi ups the volume and hands Asahi the microphone. The speakers nearly blow themselves out with the volume of the song’s opening, a mixture of guitar and human screaming, pounding bass, and the murder of a drum set. Asahi freezes, caught as a deer in the headlights, while everyone else bowls themselves over laughing.

“Oh, Asahi, don’t cry!” Noya says, stuffing down the cackling. “My glass heart husband, oh no!”

 “Koushi betrayed me…” Asahi sniffles.

Hinata laughs so hard that he actually falls out of Kageyama’s lap, nearly smashing his head against the table, but instead collapsing across Yamaguchi and Tsukishima’s laps. Tsukishima hisses and curls away from Hinata’s head while Yamaguchi props his elbows up on Hinata’s side and grins.

“I’m okay!” Hinata calls. Then smiling up at his…friend: “Hey Tsukki, how’s it going?”

“Call me ‘Tsukki’ one more time and I really will shove you onto the floor,” Tsukishima growls. “Also, get up. I don’t want anyone’s face that close to my junk.”

“ _Anyone_?” Yamaguchi asks innocently.

“Ew, ew, ew! Tobio, pull me up, pull me up!” Hinata howls. “They’re so gross!”

“Shush, shush,” Yamaguchi scolds Hinata gently. “Kageyama’s going to sing.”

“But Kageyama only sings—”

“Shh.”

Hinata had been trying to tell them that Kageyama only, _only_ ever sang holiday songs in English, but that becomes obvious as soon as sleigh bells start jingling. Holiday songs were, apparently, the only songs Kageyama doesn’t feel like an idiot singing aloud. If Hinata had to wake up to Kageyama belting ‘Sleigh Ride’ in the shower one more time, he was going to drag his paralyzed ass into the ocean and feed himself to kaiju.

However, the song is a hit. Everybody knows the words to the popular Christmas song, and they sing along heartily, all but drowning out Kageyama’s voice with misplaced holiday cheer. Kageyama sings hunched over, curling his body around the microphone in an attempt to make himself and his voice smaller. Still lying across three people, Hinata groans in pain.

Tsukishima and Yamaguchi save Hinata by taking the next song (and consequently shove him out of their laps like a fledgling being forcibly ejected from the nest). They pick a pretty well-known ONE OK ROCK song to sing. Tsukishima clears his throat and tilts his chin up while Yamaguchi looks like he’s smothering a laugh. Unlike the other duos, they sing together, Tsukishima with an unexpected air of confidence, and Yamaguchi with…volume.

Yamaguchi actually sings over Tsukishima, enough that Tsukishima shoots him a dirty look and raises his own voice until they’re facing each other, singing in a duel. They’re equally terrible, Yamaguchi’s voice breaking on all the high notes and Tsukishima sounding like a strangled cat. In their own way, they are awe-inspiring with the contrast of chemistry in their singing, arms locked and foreheads pressed together, and their horrible, out of key voices. They finish the song with their chests puffed up, sweating and panting, and both grinning broadly.

“That was really gay,” Bokuto whispers to Kuroo. Tsukishima glares daggers at them.

Hinata volunteers for the last song of the night, waving his hand in the air excitedly. He picks an electronic Top 40’s hit with a good vibe to it and sings his heart out. Most everyone else is drunk enough to join in without much goading, except Kageyama.

For Kageyama, this moment is more than a happy song in a karaoke bar with friends. It’s more than a night on the town, or the comfortable brush of shoulders among comrades. Koushi catches on to Kageyama’s mood and squeezes his knee, offering a smile. Kageyama returns the smile with a small one of his own. Every one of their friends have their hopes and dreams, their gifts and curses. Everyone in the room and in the bar and in the town is trying, just for a night, to forget about the troubles of the world and spend time laughing and loving the people most important to them. And for Kageyama, that means seeing Hinata nearly bouncing in place and singing loud, squished safely between him and Yamaguchi.

Kageyama looks from the smile splitting his partner’s face to the wheelchair in the corner. Gifts and curses.

 

\-------------------------------

 

The good feeling lasts until Tanaka and Noya are forced back into reality.

Tyrant Omega has seen better days. Not even two years old and he’s missing the top of his head, his horns cleanly sliced off by Gamma Raptor’s plasma claws. Noya and Tanaka have had to melt off his synthetic skin and veins in order to get at the Conn-Pod to rebuild it. As of now, he looks like the patient in a horror movie—the cloudy grey of his metal skull exposed, and inside that skull, the black of the Conn-Pod and the command platform exposed.

Noya feels like a brain surgeon every time he slides into the empty cavity of Omega’s Conn-Pod, a hole where Hinata’s command platform should be. Noya imagines the memories Hinata and Kageyama must have made here. The good, the bad; the triumphs and the losses. For a moment, he imagines he can feel Omega’s presence, slow-moving and slumbering, lying in wait for the return of his masters.

And Noya feels maybe just the slightest bit bitter that Omega will never consider his _creator_ his master. Just a bit.

Staring at the Conn-Pod won’t build Hinata a new command platform, though. After taking the dimensions of the space and arranging for the regrowth of Omega’s horns, Noya and Tanaka have buried themselves neck deep in blueprints for a new model. Only…

“Only, no Jaeger engineer planned on having a pilot with disabilities,” Noya sighs into his laptop screen, rubbing at his temples. On his screen, the grainy video feed of Skype reveals a frowning Yaku. “Because—at the risk of sounding like an ableist jerk—cadets with disabilities had no value in the military.”

“ _Until now_ ,” Yaku says.

“Until now,” Noya agrees. “So, I have to design a command platform that can hold Shouyou up as well as communicate with his brain and move the Jaeger how he wants since his legs can’t actually do the work.”

“ _Sounds like an overload for Hinata’s brain_ ,” Yaku notes, brows pulling even closer together. “ _Especially with the Anteverse so close to him and both Kageyama and Tyrant Omega in his mind._ ”

“Right,” Noya says. “And of course, the kicker of having to train Shouyou to use the new equipment. Prosthetic technology like this is pretty new as well, and I don’t have much knowledge about it.”

“ _I do!_ ” Lev breaks in on camera, making the feed freeze for a moment. “ _I wrote my undergraduate thesis on prosthetics, since my sister did a lot of work in that field_.”

“Your sister?” Noya asks.

“ _Ah, you don’t know_ ,” Yaku says. “ _Sorry, I never told you, but his sister is Haiba Alisa, our chief mechanic here. She helped him get his application to me since he wanted to work with Jaegers so badly. Nepotism at its finest._ ”

“I know Haiba Alisa,” Tanaka calls from behind Noya. “She’s the one who lost her legs below the knees in that big Tokyo base mechanical accident, right?”

“ _Yeah,_ ” Lev says. “ _She’s really lucky the best surgeons in Tokyo are at our base. She designed and developed her own prosthetics. She made them really fancy and pretty, too!_ ”

“ _You might want to have Hinata talk to her after the war is over_ ,” Yaku suggests.

After the war. Like there would be a future for Hinata after the war.

Both Yaku and Lev’s faces fall. Noya realizes he said that out loud. _Well. Shit._ “I’m sorry,” he says. “I don’t mean to sound pessimistic, but this _is_ a suicide mission, you know? Shouyou’s not coming back after this. No one is. They’re all going to die.”

The words sound so hollow coming out of his mouth. Tanaka’s hand is squeezing his shoulder. Noya’s vision blurs a little and he takes a deep breath. “It’s not a death sentence,” Tanaka says softly.

“It is, though, Ryuu!” Noya argues. “Why even put in safety measures? Why not just build a mechanism that snaps Hinata in and never lets go? What does it matter?”

“Because they could survive,” Tanaka says. “I know everyone’s saying we don’t have a chance, okay. I _get_ it. But that doesn’t mean it’s going to happen. Shouyou might remember some weakness of the kaiju general’s. Hell, we might win with sheer power over the kaiju. We’ve done it before; we just need to work faster and harder.”

“A Category Ten at least,” Noya says flatly. “That’s what Kozume said, right? Ten _at least_. We’re not prepared to deal with something that big.”

“ _This is what’s been bugging you_ ,” Yaku says.

“What?” Noya asks.

“ _It was obvious something was eating at you_ ,” Yaku explains. “ _I was waiting for you to tell me. Every time you bring up working on Hinata’s command platform, you get this distant, sad look in your eyes. I didn’t know how to ask you what was wrong. But you don’t want to see Hinata die_.”

“I’m done talking about this,” Noya says, unusually moody. “Lev, I would appreciate it if you could put me in touch with your sister. Other than that, I’m done for the day. Good night Mori, Lev.” He hangs up the call without hearing their replies. Tanaka opens his mouth to say something, but Noya brushes past him.

The next week, Noya seems to be back to his usual self. He starts to do kaiju dissections again, attacking them with renewed vigor, even with the reconstruction of Omega weighing on him. Arms deep in a kaiju gallbladder, Noya explains to Asahi that by doing a thorough kaiju dissection, he might be able to find a weak spot internally. Perhaps they would be able to weaken the general with poison, or aim for a particularly delicate spot in his internal organs that would cause critical damage. Asahi, instead of listening to Noya’s explanation, throws up.

Noya also turns to the information Alisa sends him on prosthetic machinery. Unsurprisingly, most of the papers and studies stem from the Jaeger Program, so Noya can use his security clearance to look for related works. With Tanaka’s assistance, he comes up with a design for the command platform that can support Hinata.

“Still have no idea what to do with the neural circuits considering all the shit attached to pilots, though,” Tanaka notes. “Also, this design is pretty binding. Shouyou won’t be able to move once he’s secured in.”

“I think that’s the idea,” Noya says. “Wouldn’t want him sliding around or falling over if Omega takes a good punch to the face.”

“Yuu,” Tanaka says, “that means there is no emergency escape for him. As in, he cannot use a rescue pod. We can put in an emergency release to get him out of the platform, but to calibrate and design a system that could unlock the command platform _and_ scoop him up into the escape pod would take…months. Years maybe. We don’t have that kind of time.”

“Good thing Shouyou and Tobio throw their own good punches then,” Noya says cryptically.

The problem, as Yaku had said, is that Noya and Tanaka had to accommodate both the neural circuitry and life support systems as well as put in place a _new_ neural interface that would allow Hinata to move the machinery attached to his legs with his mind, rather than move and have those movements relayed through to the Jaeger. Which meant the neural systems had to be compatible. And compatible with a no doubt partially brain damaged pilot.

Noya has so much work to do.

He has Kenma come in to run tests with various neural transmittance systems and a pseudo Jaeger system, partially because Kenma is the closest he can get to Hinata without actually using Hinata, and partially because he knows Kenma will do anything to help Hinata out after when their plan did to Hinata.

 

It’s a stressful process that wears at both Kenma and Noya. The two systems don’t want to cooperate, which means when Kenma tries to move or tries to _think_ about moving, the machine jerks him around like a ragdoll, trying to accommodate both the new and old systems. Noya lets Kenma off the hook every time he sees too much pain flash across their face, but Kenma always comes back for more. It takes Noya a month and a half to get it right, but when he does, he weeps.

Tanaka finds him collapsed on the floor, coffee forgotten, arms wrapped around his makeshift model.

The next time Tanaka finds Noya, he’s up in Tyrant Omega, just like old times. It’s funny, Tanaka thinks. When they had first built the test type, the atmosphere of the base seemed to be a sparkling gold, like a light was shining through the Shatterdome every time he walked inside. But now, it feels like a cave, some sunken grotto with monolithic giants standing guard, ancient and battle worn. No one’s had time to touch up the paint on the Jaegers. They’re crusted with algae in some places, salt in others. Rust is beginning to creep its way across the metal, even on Gamma Raptor, the most pampered of the Jaegers. They’re scratched up and dented in places. They look in desperate need of rest.

Omega is the only Jaeger without signs of wear. He just looks dark and daunting, skin blacker than black and skull cavity yawning at the ceiling. That’s where Tanaka will find Noya.

Sliding onto the elevator and riding it up to Omega’s shoulder is familiar as turning in his sleep, the walk across Omega’s skin as easy as a dream. Climbing into the Conn-Pod is a little harder than Tanaka remembers, but he chalks that up to the construction going on. From inside the Conn-Pod, Tanaka can hear Noya cursing.

Noya’s tearing Omega a new one—a new circuitry hole, that is. He’s got a blowtorch, some seriously heavy duty boots, and he’s kicking in the floor near where Hinata’s command platform used to reside. “Stupid fucking piece of—” Noya swears. “Should’ve never designed this hunk of junk, should’ve been a biologist like mom told me to—”

His foot slams through the remaining scrap of metal, taking his whole leg down the hole with it. Noya howls in pain and Tanaka jumps the last feet to rush to Noya’s side, hauling Noya up and away from the danger by his armpits.

“There, there,” Tanaka soothes. “You’re okay, you’re safe. Let’s see how bad it is.”

“It’s fine,” Noya growls.

“Actually, you have a long tear along the side of your calf that needs stitches,” Tanaka observes, pulling off his shirt to tie it around the still bleeding wound.

“God _dammit_!” Noya snarls, bringing his fist down hard against the floor.

“What is the matter with you?” Tanaka snaps. “You’re kicking in your favorite project, calling your ‘baby’ a hunk of junk? What the hell is going on, Yuu? I thought you figured out the command platform design!”

“I don’t _want_ to put in this command platform, Ryuu!” Noya cries. “I don’t want to put this death trap in! I don’t want to have anything to do with the, the _contraption_ that takes Shouyou’s life away from him!”

Tears rise in his eyes, but they might as well be a tidal wave. They swim and then fall. Tanaka remembers that Nishinoya Yuu is twenty-five years old, and he does not want to condemn another man to death.

“I understand,” Tanaka says quietly. And he does. It’s not just about snuffing out a young, talented life. It’s about Hinata’s fragility, though he does so well to disguise it. There’s something porcelain to his smiles. A quality like flower stems in his bones. Hinata is a piece of fine china, polished and beautiful, its cracks repaired, but just one chip could send him shattering to pieces all over again. Hinata has recovered, but he is still so close to breaking.

“Even after he recovers from losing his goddamn legs, even after he’s fallen in love with Tobio all over again, even after he starts to laugh like _Shouyou_ again, we’re just sending him out to die all over again,” Noya says dully. “It feels so wrong. I feel like the villain in some shitty movie even though I’m only trying to do my job.”

Tanaka doesn’t know what to do, so he pulls Noya into a tight hug, firmly kissing his forehead. “You aren’t a villain, Yuu,” Tanaka says. “You’re not doing anything wrong. The world is going to end regardless of whether Shouyou gets into this Jaeger or not. Don’t you think he would rather go down fighting than helpless on the ground while his comrades fall in battle?”

Tanaka’s right, and he knows that Noya knows it. Noya gives one more half-hearted sniffle and nods. “Doesn’t mean I want to enable it,” he murmurs.

“No one _wants_ anyone to die,” Tanaka says. “You just need to do your best so that Hinata can fight to the best of his ability. The better he fights, the better chance he has to survive.”

“That’s a nicer way of thinking about it,” Noya admits. “Ryuu? Will you work alongside me?”

“Of course,” Tanaka says. “I’m sorry; I should have seen this coming and been at your side sooner.”

Noya headbutts him gently. “You don’t get to blame yourself for my breakdown.”

“But I do get to haul your sorry ass out of this Jaeger and down to the hospital, and won’t that be a _blast_ ,” Tanaka grumbles.

Noya grins, really grins, for the first time in weeks. Tanaka can read his body language, the way the tension seeps from his body and the light returns to his eyes, the color to his cheeks. For once in too long a time, Nishinoya looks like a human being again.

 

\-------------------------

 

“You wanted to see me?”

“Oh, Hinata!” Koushi says, clapping his hands together. “Yes, please, come in.”

Hinata easily pushes the door to Koushi’s quarters—personal quarters, neither the hospital room nor his old home where he lived with Daichi. He wheels himself in slowly, giving Koushi a bright smile. Koushi only has a few candles lit, as night had barely fallen. The balcony door is thrown wide open, allowing moonlight to bleed across the carpet and walls and Hinata’s cheekbones while the candle flames dance in his eyes. There’s just the touch of wind, turning Koushi’s beautiful pale skin and hair ethereal.

“I’ll fetch the tea,” Koushi says. He’d put a kettle on the stove earlier, having taken to kettle-brewed tea with real tea leaves than the bagged tea or coffee. He moves gracefully, carefully, each movement scripted.

“I’d like that, thank you,” Hinata says, folding his hands in his lap.

The tea cozies on the table are also hand-knit by Koushi. He liked to knit when anxious, and given the events of his life thus far, Hinata couldn’t blame him for having quite the collection. Hinata takes the crow one.

“Thought you’d like that one,” Koushi says, pouring tea into Hinata’s mug. “Birds are so wonderful, but I’m envious, too. To be that free…”

“Crows are hardy and intelligent,” Hinata notes, taking a careful sip of the tea. “They don’t get enough credit.”

“That’s true,” Koushi agrees. “Most people only see them as a kind of dirty scavenger.”

“And you, Suga-san?”

Koushi places his mug back on the cozy and looks out the window thoughtfully. “I think some of the most wonderful things in life are taken for granted until they’re gone.”

Hinata sighs. “What did you call me here for?”

“It’s brave of you to volunteer to fight again, after everything,” Koushi says, still not looking at Hinata. “I heard Nishinoya and Tanaka can even modify the Conn-Pod to accommodate your disability. It’s amazing. Science is amazing.”

Hinata waits.

“Why?” Koushi turns to him. “Why are you doing this?”

“I have to,” Hinata says. “It’s my duty as a pilot. It’s what I was born to do. I’m of no use to anyone if I’m able and willing to pilot and I don’t. Should I just leave the world to burn?”

“That’s not a ‘why,’” Koushi says softly. “That’s a reason, yes. It’s a duty. But it is not a ‘why.’”

“What better reason could I have than to save the world?” Hinata asks.

“Kageyama,” Koushi says.

“We talked about it,” Hinata says. “We decided—”

“Did you really, though?” Koushi challenges. “Did you consider what will happen if he gets killed? I know you, Hinata. You assured him that he would be okay if you died, probably back when you told him you were going to Drift with a kaiju. You told him you’re not afraid to die, because you aren’t. But you should be afraid of if he dies. You should be very, very afraid.”

“If one of us goes down in battle, the other will, too,” Hinata says softly.

“So I thought of Daichi and me,” Koushi points out. “Life can surprise you in the most unpleasant of ways.”

“The general won’t allow either of us to survive.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Then what is?”

“You haven’t thought this through,” Koushi snaps. “You haven’t weighed the repercussions. You haven’t considered the honor in fleeing. You haven’t considered saving Kageyama’s life, because I am sure he will not pilot without you.”

“I will not run away,” Hinata says gravely.

“And what if you save the world and Kageyama isn’t in it anymore? Or if he is, but comatose? Have you considered amnesia? Multiple amputations? Do you understand the level of injury the human body can sustain and still survive?” Koushi demands. “Be honest with me, Hinata…are you strong enough to not be a burden on _him_?”

“I’m not weak,” Hinata snaps.

“I know that,” Koushi says. “God, do I know that, but I also know the kaiju. When they destroy something, they _destroy_ it.” He takes a breath. “Your mind.”

Hinata startles. “What about it?” he says too quickly.

“The scar that kaiju left…has it really healed? Is it really something you can overcome by sheer will?” Koushi asks, brows pulling together and frowning softly. Hinata’s heart pounds. Koushi has the look of someone who has won their argument, but paid a great price to do so.

“I…I will be…okay,” Hinata says honestly. “It’s…I will be fine, in time.”

“Are you willing to risk sharing even more with our enemy?” Koushi asks finally.

Hinata’s heart calms. “I won’t be overwhelmed; I won’t break. This I know for sure.”

He wheels away from the table, the corner of his mouth twitching up in a faux smile. “He will try,” Hinata says softly. “He has seen me, and he knows me, as I know him. He’s hunting for me, but I think…I think he is afraid. Because he has seen my strength and my suffering. It is not something a mere clone or creation can replicate or understand. The general only knows how to kill, he doesn’t know a thing about struggling and persisting and clawing your way to victory, so he must use every trick he has.

“For you, Suga-san, this maybe just another drop in the bucket of misfortunes, a passing shower in a life that has turned endlessly dark and stormy,” Hinata says slowly, determinedly. Confidently. “I mean that with all respect, but part of you has given up. Something in you died and now refuses to fight. But for me, there is a storm brewing in my chest and at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean and through a rift in time and space, a challenge raised by the enemy that I have to—that I _want_ to—meet head on. I _will_ answer their call for war and blood, and I will win.”

He doesn’t say anything after that, not even a parting word, but turns and wheels himself back out, his chair not making a single sound. Koushi feels something inside him tremor, touched by the words of a man who keeps losing, but will not lose. To Koushi, Hinata just might be more terrifying than any kaiju across the universe.

Hinata turns his head over his shoulder, and in that moment, he looks more feral than Kenma or Kuroo ever did. “I hope you will join me on judgement day.”

 

\--------------------------------------------

 

The base crackles like lightning after Koushi and Hinata’s confrontation, not that they told anybody about it. It is as if everyone can smell the static in the air, ozone mixing with rain; see the grey cloudbanks rolling in from a distance; feel in their very bones that this would be the storm to end all storms and it was time to batten down the hatches.

Noya, Asahi, and Kenma watch this frenzy of energy with the interest of a gaggle of sloths observing a forest fire—mild concern, but nothing so worrisome as to promote more than the slowest of actions. Noya slurps his coffee noisily. Kenma warms their hands on the mug. Asahi blinks.

“Busy day for the base,” he comments.

“People seem to be doing important work,” Noya agrees.

“Very useful,” Kenma adds.

“Months of _nothing_ ,” Asahi groans. “Nothing to show for our efforts at finding a single, solitary weakness.”

“I designed a new command platform for Shouyou,” Noya mutters into his coffee, but neither of his companions pay him any mind.

“My head hurts,” Kenma says.

“I suppose we better get back to doing our useless work,” Asahi suggests.

“I guess.”

“Might as well.”

One scientist, one mathematician, and one tired-to-the-bone Ranger slouch into the science bay to continue slaving away at what appeared to be an impossible problem to solve. Asahi would monitor the readings from the kaiju sensors and fall asleep at his desk. Kenma would Drift by himself and prod at the hole in his mind until he wore himself down to the point of complete mental exhaustion and fall asleep. Noya would continue dissecting the kaiju piece by piece, and—if he was unlucky—fall asleep arms deep in a miscellaneous kaiju organ and crash face first into _kaiju juice_.

Just another day in the lives of Miyagi’s most overworked staff.

However, it was not so typical that they got a visitor, let alone one with a wheelchair and a shock of orange hair.

“Hi,” Hinata says shyly, having trouble making eye contact with everyone, but especially Kenma. “I, uh…came to help? Hopefully?”

“Sure, Shouyou,” Noya yawns. “I mean, we’re all useless pieces of shit, so if you’ve got anything, we’re all ears.”

But Hinata is still not paying attention to anyone but Kenma. Kenma, on the other hand, has frozen, staring wide-eyed at Hinata. Hinata bites at his lip, shoots a brief glance at Kenma, then looks away. He fumbles for the words, can’t figure out how to make things better with one of the people who laid him low.

Kenma holds their arms open. Tentatively. Awkwardly. “This is how you make up, right?” they say.

Hinata rolls towards them slowly, accepting the embrace when Kenma leans towards him, fingers skimming Kenma’s arms and clutching at him lightly. They smell like sweat and caffeine and oil and they are as warm as the metal of an idling Jaeger—just enough to soak through his skin and make him whole again, but never enough to burn. Of course Kenma hadn’t meant him harm. How could he have ever believed that? Hinata grips Kenma harder and closer, and Kenma responds in kind, shaking just a little.

“I’m sorry for cutting you out of my life without ever taking the time to hear you out,” Hinata says. “It was cruel and unthinking of me to do, especially to someone I love.”

“I’m sorry for manipulating you, and not telling you everything, and allowing you to get hurt,” Kenma whispers. “I stayed by your side. As long as I could, I stayed by your side, I just wanted to tell you—”

“Shhh,” Hinata shushes them gently. “I know. I understand. I’m not angry with you. I forgive you.”

“You shouldn’t,” Kenma sniffles. “That was an awful thing for Kuro and me to do. I turn it over in my head, over and over. It would have still been horrible if it had been someone else, but knowing I did this to someone I love, it’s…I have trouble living with myself.”

“But I forgive you,” Hinata says, pulling back. “I’d like to live beside you again, if you’ll let me. Can we be friends again?”

Kenma nods, rubbing the heel of their hands against their eyes. “What the fuck,” they croak. “Of course I want to be friends with you.” They press a firm kiss to Hinata’s forehead, and he smiles, closing his eyes and soaking in the feeling of being at Kenma’s side once more.

“We’ll make the kaiju pay,” Kenma hisses.

“Hell yeah we will.” Hinata grins.

“Umm…yeah, that’s great and all, but how?” Noya says dubiously, gesturing to the lab. “We’ve got jack shit on kaiju weaknesses other than what we already know, we don’t know when the general is coming, and we don’t know what they know about our forces. We’re sitting ducks.”

“I know things,” Hinata says. Noya seems unconvinced. “I mean,” Hinata explains, “when I Drifted with the kaiju, I saw things about the Precursors and the general that could be useful. But the trauma…” He trails off.

“The trauma is shielding the memory from you,” Asahi says, understanding.

Hinata nods.

“Well, shit,” Noya says. “Back to square one, I guess.”

“Not…exactly,” Hinata says, but frowns. “None of you are going to like it.”

Kenma shifts, mind working.

“The memory is repressed, but it’s still there,” Hinata says. “If I Drifted with someone and had them help me pick at the scar in my mind, I think we could find out what I know.”

“No way,” Kenma says.

“No way,” Asahi agrees.

“No way,” Noya says, but looks just the slightest bit disappointed.

Hinata sighs. “I knew you’d say that. But look, it’s my decision and my risk, and the benefits outweigh the risks in my opinion.”

“But in the opinion of the Marshal and basically anyone who has a brain, it’s a horrible idea,” Noya counters.

“It may not seem like a risk to your health,” Asahi adds, “but anything that you know about our military offense and defense—which is a lot—could get back to them, and we can’t afford to lose any more ground in this war.”

“They probably know everything by now anyway,” Hinata mutters under his breath.

“That’s not a _good_ thing, Shouyou,” Kenma says. “They’re right—no normal pilot could Drift with you when you’re so scarred and you risk losing everything if you do try it.”

“No normal pilot,” Hinata says. “But you could.” His hand finds Kenma’s. “Our minds are no strangers to each other. If you could shield me from the eyes of the Anteverse while I look for answers, then together we could find a weakness—”

Kenma is already shaking their head. “It isn’t possible…I have a hole, too. I can’t protect you and me at the same time.”

“You _can_ ,” Hinata insists. “You’re strong enough. It’ll be a weaker shield, yes, but I won’t stray far. As long as we’re hidden, they won’t find us.”

Kenma presses their hand to their forehead, as if the pain was already setting in. “It’s so dangerous,” they say. “If I slip up, they’ll kill us. They’ll really kill us.”

Hinata squeezes their hand. “Do we have another option?” he says, smiling bitterly. “Do we have any chance of surviving if we don’t at least try? I know Yaku-san and Lev have been designing upgrades for our Jaegers, but will bigger guns really destroy something over twice as large as the biggest we’ve seen?”

“I’m scared,” Kenma says. They’re frozen—the fight or flight instincts are dead, replaced instead with the intangible dread of the Breach and the Precursors fuzzy and nauseating at the back of their mind. Kenma knows what it’s like to be flayed alive by the gaze of a superior alien race. They know how it is to have their mind violated, how it is to violate another’s mind. War is ugly—there’s no time for morality or fear or anything but _movement_ , and yet they’re hesitating before the jump.

“I’ll be with you,” Hinata says. “It won’t be like when you’re with Kuroo-san, having to fight them alone. It won’t be like before, just you and the dying mind of that kaiju. It’ll be like when we practiced, just the two of us.”

Kenma closes their eyes. Squeezes Hinata’s hand. But then, the most important question: “Does Kageyama know?”

Hinata purses his lips. “He does.”

Kenma raises an eyebrow. “But?”

“But he doesn’t like it, obviously,” Hinata says. “He doesn’t think my mind is healed enough.”

“It’s not,” Kenma deadpans.

“I know that,” Hinata snaps. “But that’s the point, isn’t it? It’ll be easier to glean information from my brain if the scar isn’t fully healed.”

Kenma takes a deep breath, nods. “Okay.”

“Kenma, you can’t be serious,” Noya says.

“If the Marshal found out—” Asahi starts.

“He will,” Hinata says. “You can tell him just as soon as we get in the test pod. We’ll leave all the recording equipment on. You can say you tried to stop us. The Marshal has no choice at this point but to let us do anything we can to improve our chances.”

Noya and Asahi open their mouths to protest, but what else is there to say? If Kenma and Hinata fail, their situation doesn’t change. If they are destroyed and give away military information, their probable future of complete and utter annihilation doesn’t change. And if they succeed without the Precursors knowing, then they would have a trump card against their enemies.

Hinata and Kenma know this. It is written in the distance in their eyes, the future sight of young men carrying terrible burdens, despite any psychic power. Kenma is an exile, a non-human chased from every base they tried to call home. Hinata is a survivor, barely hanging on, just a shred of the boy he once was. If these two dead men wished to gamble their half-lives, did Noya and Asahi really have the right to tell them ‘no’?

They let them go and report to the Marshal, giving the pair a ten-minute head start.

 

\----------------------------

 

None of it is pretty.

The test pods cannot accommodate a disabled person. It takes all of Kenma’s strength to haul Hinata into position, to hang him like Jesus Christ on the command platform. Hinata offers them a weak smile and a ‘sorry for the trouble’ but all Kenma can think is that someone who smiles like Hinata should not have to die for all their sins.

Michimiya appears before Kenma climbs in himself, the furious guardian deity of the test Drift pods.   
“What do you think you’re doing?” she hisses. “These pods are restricted! You’re not approved to—”

Kenma turns to her, speaking quickly and softly. “Shouyou and I are about to undergo an incredibly dangerous Drift. Please inform Ennoshita-sensei and have him prepare two emergency operating rooms in the event of a worst case scenario.” Michimiya is taken aback. Kenma squeezes her shoulder. “Please, will you do this for me?”

Michimiya looks between Kenma and Hinata, still breathing heavily from the struggle of getting into position. “Isn’t there something I can do?” she asks quietly, realizing there something important is happening. “All this rushing around and preparing the base like it’s the apocalypse and I—I can’t even keep my one station safe from intruders.”

“You can help us by telling Ennoshita-sensei,” Kenma says. “There are some things that have to be withheld for your safety, and for the safety of everyone who isn’t on the frontline.”

“They told us we’d be evacuating soon, to tell our friends and family to take a permanent vacation,” she says. “Is that true?”

“We’re doing everything we can to make sure that is only a precaution and not a permanent reality,” Kenma assures her. “I promise.”

Michimiya takes a deep breath. “Okay. Okay, I can accept that. I’ll go to Ennoshita-sensei immediately.”

“Thank you,” Kenma says.

They step into the test pod and Hinata offers them a shaky smile. “Are you ready?”

“Not a chance in hell,” Kenma grumbles. “I can’t believe you talked me into this.”

Hinata laughs. “We’ll be heroes if this works, you know.”

“We’ll be _alive_ if this works,” Kenma says. “Get your priorities straight.” He pauses. “And you’re already a hero, there’s no one who would doubt that. You’ll go down in history, Shouyou.”

“Like George Washington,” he chirps, and at Kenma’s disgusted look, he laughs harder. “Kageyama’s song of choice this morning.”

“That’s it, I’m feeding you to the kaiju,” Kenma says. “Goodbye forever, Shouyou.”

“See?” Hinata says. “You’re going to be just fine.”

“I’m just nervous,” Kenma argues.

“A nervous Kenma never jokes, though,” Hinata says. “Come on in, Kenma. My mind is waiting for yours.”

Kenma holds their breath and activates the neural handshake.

It’s a bad idea.

Kenma realizes upon entering the in-between that this was a horrible, horrible idea. The darkness of the Anteverse is cloying and clawing, the darkness of both of their minds clashing and wailing upon interaction. It’s hard to hear or see Hinata with all the twisting shadows and the feeling of being watched prickling Kenma’s skin. They shield themselves, but even then, each step further into the darkness is met with snarls and the pressure of the Anteverse thrumming in their ears, breathing down their neck and—

Hinata.

He’s hovering in the middle of the deepest darkness, a blinding light amongst the monsters. He doesn’t seem perturbed, just observant. Kenma is shivering and sweating, but Hinata looks unruffled. He even reaches out a hand, lets the smoky tendril of some distant, monstrous consciousness brush past his.

_That’s dangerous, Shouyou._

Hinata turns to Kenma. _Something’s different,_ he think-speaks. _There’s someone else with us._

 _Yeah,_ Kenma snorts, _they’re called the Precursors._

 _No, not them,_ Hinata persists. _Someone closer._ He shakes his head. _Nevermind. The sooner we Drift, the sooner we’ll be free. They’ll start to recognize us soon._

 _Let’s go,_ Kenma says, and their minds press close.

Kenma opens their eyes, glancing to their left to see Hinata blinking awake too. Tentative, Kenma reaches out to Hinata and—

 _Smash_.

Hinata shuts Kenma out so quickly they almost fall out of alignment.

“…Sorry,” Hinata says. “I wasn’t ready.”

“You gave me a heart attack,” Kenma breathes. “When did you get so strong?”

“Um,” Hinata says. “I just…be careful, okay? Mine is…bigger than yours.”

“I will,” Kenma assures him. Once again, they reach out to Hinata’s mind.

It is bigger. Kenma doesn’t know how to feel, stomach dropping to their toes and replacing it with the deepest yawning pit of despair they’ve ever felt. “Oh, Shouyou…” Kenma whispers. The gash is _massive_ , occupying most of Hinata’s mental space, meaning he has so little room to himself, so little room to share…oh, he must have worked so hard to keep this from Kageyama…

“What does it feel like?” Kenma asks.

“It’s always there,” Hinata says dully. “They talk to me. A lot. I can hear them all the time, even when I’m sleeping.”

“What do they say?” Kenma asks, horrified.

“It’s whispering, too faint to really make out.” Hinata shrugs. “I’d write it down if we had any ability to translate their words. I guess they see my thoughts, too.”

“That’s why you weren’t afraid of them in the in-between, or of trying this…” Kenma realizes. Their face crumples. “Shouyou…”

“It’s nothing,” Hinata assures them. “It will heal, eventually. I’m not really scared of them anymore. They’ve lived in my head long enough that it just buzzes at the edge of my consciousness. I hardly notice it.”

But Kenma knows it’s a façade. The hole in their mind is enough to make them lose sleep, to pace, to rip at their own skull until Kuroo pulls their hands away and curls around them while they cry soundlessly. The hole in their mind is torturous, and it is but a fragment of the gash that scars Hinata’s mind.

“Come on,” Hinata says. “I need you to shield me. They know my mind well enough to let me pass, but they will still object to feeling a human near the hivemind.”

“Don’t touch it,” Kenma warns. “Just your memories, no further.”

Hinata nods.

Unlike his first time Drifting with Kenma, Hinata does not dive into the connection with the hivemind. He picks at the scar, letting his memories of what he learned from connecting with the kaiju bleed through, sitting just at the edge of tumbling headfirst into the Anteverse. Kenma’s job is to put a barrier around them, minds connected and as one. They see the flashes of kaiju assembly lines, of the Precursor’s twisted bodies, and of the general.

Hinata fixates on the general, plucking out memories relating to him through the mist of shock and memory repression. His heartbeat picks up and Kenma urges him to calm down. Fear and pain were the easiest of emotions to sense, and after having the hivemind violated, the Precursors were clearly on edge. Kenma can tell by the jagged, flickering shadows of the in-between. They were agitated.

 _These are good,_ Kenma says, seeing bits and pieces of Hinata’s memories, recovered and stored away safely in his short-term memory. Details on the general: his size, his weapons, his arrival—things that would help them develop strategies to combat him, all without the Precursors knowing they knew.

 _There’s something else, something more important,_ Hinata says distractedly. _I know I saw it, just before my connection with that kaiju was severed. Where is it?_

 _Don’t stray,_ Kenma says, strained as Hinata’s mind wanders closer to the gash. _Shouyou, no!_

 _Just one second,_ Hinata insists. _One second, and I’ll know it. I know exactly what I’m looking for; I’ll be in and out so fast they won’t be able to catch me._

 _I can’t shield you!_ Kenma cries, but Hinata has already done it.

The space in their minds shudders, as does the test pod. The gash swells and constricts, centering on where Hinata prodded at it, diving into the hivemind and laying himself bare. Kenma wrenches him back with all the mental strength they can muster, foregoing a shield and baring themself as well for just a moment. Kenma tugs so hard they shatter the Drift, and the pilots are hurled gracelessly back into reality.

“Got it!” Hinata crows, pleased with himself.

“As soon as I stop feeling like I’m going to hurl, I am punching you,” Kenma growls. “That was _dangerous_!”

“I’m sorry,” Hinata says sincerely. “I didn’t know it was so far in my memories that I wouldn’t be able to reach it. I just knew that it was absolutely essential, and I was right.”

“Well, spit it out,” Kenma says. “What was worth nearly dying for?”

“The Breach,” Hinata says, grinning from ear to ear. “The Breach will be our savior.”

 

\--------------------------------

 

“I would get mad at you, but honestly at this point, who even listens to me anymore?” Marshal Ukai growls, hands on his hips. Hinata and Kenma at least have the decency not to meet his eyes. “Who cares if I have _years_ of experience on you _assholes_ and a knowledge of what is legal and what’s not, what’s a good idea and what’s not. And just so you know, what you did was neither legal nor a good idea.”

“Actually, I think it was technically legal,” Takeda points out, earning him a murderous glare from Ukai.

“Insubordination is illegal,” Ukai says, both as a response and a threat. “But who cares, right? The world’s ending so the chain of command might as well, too.”

“In our defense, Marshal, sir,” Hinata squeaks, “what we did was in order to stop the world from ending.”

“I hate all of you,” Ukai says tiredly. “Okay, Hinata. Let’s hear what you’ve got. _Please_ let it be good news.”

“It is,” Hinata says, turning to address all the Rangers and head personnel, from Tanaka to Ennoshita. “Everyone, Kenma and I have found—well, it’s not a solution exactly, but a silver lining. The Breach is what will save us. The Precursors have been stretching its diameter slowly in order to accommodate the size of the kaiju. They gradually increase the size of the kaiju.”

“It’s true,” Asahi confirms. “We’ve kept close measurements on the size of the Breach, and although I had hypothesized this might have been the case, Hinata has just confirmed it.”

“Does that mean the general won’t fit through?” Bokuto asks.

“Unfortunately, no,” Hinata says. “However, by forcing a kaiju of his size through the Breach, the portal will be distorted beyond repair. I asked Asahi about it, and—”

“The portal would have to close,” Asahi finishes for him. “The Precursors would have to take time to rebuild the portal, which by my estimates, would take around seven years.”

There are murmurs throughout the crowd.

“They _would_ repair it, though,” Tsukishima surmises.

“We believe so,” Hinata says. “After all, they’re planning to wipe us all out in one go. Seven years is nothing if the planet is deserted or mostly deserted.”

“They’re putting all their bets on the general, though,” Kenma says. “This is their all-or-nothing plan. The hivemind is their most sacred haven, and by violating it, Shouyou and I have forced their hand. They have had to move up the plan because of us, which can be either a good or a bad thing.”

“Pros: we get seven years to repair and rebuild the Jaeger Program,” Hinata says. “New recruits, new bases, new Jaegers—essentially we get to start from scratch and be better prepared than ever. They’ll have to start over, too, so we’ll catch a break with Category Ones and Twos.”

“Cons: we still have to fight that goddamn monster,” Ukai sighs. “No way of avoiding him, is there?”

“It’s just the one, though,” Hinata presses. “One way or another, we _will_ stop him. He can’t survive forever, if it takes every last round of ammunition in the world.”

“Alright, but we need weaknesses,” Kuroo says. “Something more on this beast, so that we can take him down.”

“We have that, too,” Kenma says. “We were able to recover his blueprint and details about their plan.”

“Alright, gather round,” Ukai says, moving to the table in the center of the room. “Let’s see if we can’t get ourselves a plan.”

“He’s big,” Hinata says glumly, while Kenma picks up a pen and begins to sketch out a diagram of his body on the touchscreen. “The Category system is basically defunct when it comes to his size.”

“How big?” Ukai asks, not sure if he wants to know the answer.

“Tyrant Omega would have no trouble scaling his body,” Hinata says, sinking into his wheelchair. “In fact, he might not even notice if we did.”

The room is quiet, taking that in.

“My God,” Kuroo says hollowly.

“It’s not worth trying to picture,” Hinata says. “I’ve seen him and even I can’t process how big that is.”

“What kind of a time window are we working with?” Kageyama asks. “If he’s that big we’re going to need plans—lots of plans.”

“Twenty-three days,” Hinata says. “It’s not long, but all the Jaegers have been outfitted, and all we need now is to run some team drills and come up with the tactical plans. And also, considering how huge he is, it will take him about four to five hours to ascend from the Breach once he’s sensed. That gives us time to prepare.”

“Okay, so what are his offensive abilities?” Bokuto asks.

“No, more importantly, what does he know about us?” Akaashi asks.

“Everything,” Kenma says softly. “Nukes, guns, air force, navy, every single blueprint of every Jaeger that cadets were forced to memorize in training.” They shoot a glance at Ukai, and the Marshal grimaces.

“How were we supposed to know that Rangers’ minds could be compromised?” he mutters, but looks contrite.

“Well, at least they won’t know about the upgrades,” Yamaguchi says.

“We shouldn’t assume we have any element of surprise,” Hinata says. He and Kenma leave out the part about Hinata’s mind being constantly vulnerable to the Precursors, although both Kageyama and Kuroo feel he uneasiness across their respective bonds and narrow their eyes in unison.

“Anyway, about the general,” Kenma says, drawing the attention back to them. “He has a thousand eyes, so no sneaking up behind him; extremely thick skin, looks like several layers of armor; plating all along his sides where any vulnerable organs may be exposed, and spikes along his spine and crowning his head.” Kenma points to part of the diagram. “There are these fleshy tentacles, not entirely sure of their purpose, but I presume they’re supposed to be faster and prehensile because of how heavy and slow he is. Definitely dangerous. Also there’s this…halo…thing…over his head. No idea about that one.”

“Worrisome,” Takeda says, frowning. “Something that strange cannot be without a terrible purpose.”

“All of this is worrisome,” Ukai sighs. “Doesn’t look like he has any weaknesses. How the hell are we supposed to beat this thing?”

“Seems to me like the soft, fleshy parts are our only way in,” Tsukishima murmurs. “Could we attack the eyes and cut off the tentacles, then target those openings?”

“Scrapper and Omega are versatile,” Akaashi says, nodding. “Even Gamma could probably do some damage up close.”

“Up close…” Yamaguchi trails off.

“Inside,” Hinata says grimly. He nods at Akaashi. “They’re suggesting we climb inside the kaiju and attack him from there.”

“I want to say that’s suicide,” Kageyama says tiredly, “but when all is said and done, it seems like the only option, and this was a suicide mission anyway. Marshal?”

“Shit,” Ukai swears. “Yes, Tsukishima and Akaashi make good points. We don’t know what kind of environment the inside of a kaiju is, though. Prepare yourself for acid and intolerable conditions.”

“We’ll make sure their underwater survival systems are updated and fully-functioning,” Tanaka says.

“Alright, here’s the plan,” Ukai says. “Gold Strike, you’re best at distance fighting. Unfortunately, in this fight, you won’t be particularly useful. Your job will be keeping the kaiju distracted, attempting to blind it, and if you can, blast holes in those tentacles.”

Yamaguchi and Tsukishima nod. It’s sharp and quick, but both Yamaguchi feel a flash of relief of being put on reserve, followed by the stab of guilt.

“Gamma Raptor, you’ve got claws—you’re to do most of the damage to those tentacles. Cut them off, open wounds so that Scrapper and Omega can get to them. If you find any weak spots, do not hesitate to tear that thing apart. You are our point team, so it’ll be your job to relay the location of injuries to the other teams and coordinate the attacks quickly and efficiently. Got it?”

Bokuto and Akaashi salute tightly.

“Scrapper Nine, Tyrant Omega, you two have the most important job. You have to actually kill this thing. Crawl inside it, wreak havoc, and destroy anything and everything you can. A simple task, but also a dangerous one. Everyone else is covering you. _Do not_ go to the aid of any of the other teams. It’s their job to look after you and help you move forward. Just. Kill. The kaiju.”

“Sir!” The four salute.

“I want Omega doing the most dangerous stunts, though,” Ukai says. His voice is hard but calm. “You have the tightest connection with your Jaeger, and you will be able to make those slight adjustments the rest of the Jaegers cannot.”

Hinata and Kageyama read between the lines. It makes Kageyama curl his hands into white-knuckles fists, but Hinata only smiles sadly and nods. As damaged as Kenma and Kuroo were, they were at least fully functional. It was a sacrifice Hinata was willing to be.

 _It’s okay,_ he thinks softly to Kageyama. _I know you’re mad on my behalf, but don’t be. The Marshal doesn’t want to make this decision, but he has to. We’re the newest and the least valuable. It only makes sense to throw us to the wolves_.

 _You won’t die,_ Kageyama thinks back. _I already said I wouldn’t let you._

 _Well then,_ Hinata laughs. _I’ll be in your care._

“Is this enough to defeat the kaiju?” Tsukishima asks, because they couldn’t end the meeting on a hopeful note.

“No,” Hinata says bluntly. “If we’re lucky, we will distract and cripple the general enough that the other bases have time to gather their forces and finish him off. If we’re _really_ lucky, he won’t even make landfall.”

“But we all die,” Tsukishima says just as bluntly. “All our preparation and advantages, and we still die.”

Solemn silence falls across the room.

“Everyone else will be safe for a long, long time, though,” Kenma says. “All your friends and family—they’ll all be safe somewhere else in the world. You’ll die protecting the children in every country in the world. You’ll die protecting the beauty of earth and the happiness of every person alive. They have a future, because of us. Isn’t that enough?”

A pause.

“I suppose it is,” Tsukishima says quietly.

“Dismissed,” Ukai murmurs.

“It’s not enough,” Kuroo whispers to Kenma as everyone files out of the room. “We need more firepower. We need a trump card. We need _something_.”

“Yes,” Kenma agrees, looking thoughtful. “We need _something_.”

 

\----------------------------------------

 

Hinata calls Natsu that night.

Kageyama only hears one side of the conversation, just Hinata’s laughs and the love warm in his voice when he talks to his little sister. Not so little anymore, though—she’s fifteen now, old enough to appreciate the fame of her older brother and shine like a star because of it. Hinata says she gets cheeky with her teachers because her brother is a national hero, but Kageyama can’t imagine that amount of mischief coming from the sweet looking girl Hinata showed him pictures of.

“You should see the wheelchair Ryuu-san and Yuu-san made for me Nacchan, you’d love it!” Hinata chirps. “It’s like an ATV—it’s super fast, with big wheels that can go through any kind of terrain. I even have a rocket booster! …What? No! No, I’m not lying! Look, I’ll race you when I get back home, and I’ll prove it to you, okay? No, it is not cheating! I’m a poor, injured war veteran; can’t you give me a handicap? …Oof, stingy.”

Hinata’s voice never stumbles or wavers when he talks about going home, but the sorrow is sunk deep in his bones, palpable across the bond. Kageyama thinks of promises made, thinks of the locking of pinkies and of bright smiles, and then he thinks of an open ocean and the rain, wet as the tears of a little girl in all black, her hair an unfitting orange in the drabness of funeral clothing…

_No._

_Stop that._ _Shouyou is coming home. You’re both coming home._

In the other room, Hinata wheels his chair back and forth, his version of pacing as he talks on the phone with Natsu. “I miss you and Mom, too…” Hinata trails off fondly. “I’ll be home soon enough. Why don’t you tell me about your weird plants…okay, okay, your _succulents_.” He smiles into the phone, twisting a strand of hair around his finger. “Oh, really? That’s pretty cool! I think I’ll bring you something when I come back…oh, Kageyama?”

Kageyama jumps.

Hinata snickers into the phone. “Yeah, he is a bit of a prickly pear, isn’t he?”

“Oi,” Kageyama growls.

“Ooo, I’m in trouble!” Hinata stage-whispers. “Don’t tell him I called him a cactus.”

Kageyama rolls his eyes.

“Yes, he is my boyfriend,” Hinata says, like it’s the simplest and most obvious thing in the world, and Kageyama jumps for an entirely different reason. “Yep, I like him a lot…. Yes, Natsu, I am in love-love with him. Why are you being so gross? …No, you’re the one being gross!”

Hinata’s smile turns gentle. “I think you’ll like him a lot, when you meet him. Hey, how about I make you a deal? You get Mom to stop watching the news and worrying, and I’ll bring Kageyama home next time. Yup, to home-home. But come on; enjoy it while you’re there! It’s Paris for crying out loud!”

So Hinata had shipped them off too. It was to be expected that his mother would worry—Kageyama’s own parents, as absent as they had been during his childhood, seemed very distressed when he left them a message telling them that they needed to move as far away from the Pacific as possible. He hadn’t returned their call, but he had listened to the voicemail.

“You take care Nacchan. And…hey? I love you so much, okay? I love you. Okay. Good night.” Hinata lays the phone down in his lap and rubs at his eyes. He doesn’t seem upset, just exhausted. As bone-tired and scared and broken as the rest of them, trying to put up a front for the people he loved.

“Paris?” Kageyama asks.

“Yeah, Mom always wanted to go,” Hinata says. “Where’d you send your folks?”

“New York,” Kageyama replies. “Mom just moved her job there, it wasn’t a big deal.”

“I’m tired, Tobio,” Hinata says, smile ghostly. “I want to go to bed and try not to think of anything.”

Kageyama hoists Hinata into his arms. Hinata, who would have usually protested being treated like an invalid, slumped gratefully against Kageyama’s chest. “Well,” Kageyama says. “I can’t promise nothing, but we could think about nice things.” He bumps the door to their bedroom open with his hip.

“Like what?” Hinata asks.

“We could talk about how you’re totally going to kick Natsu’s ass when you race her,” Kageyama suggests.

Hinata laughs sleepily. “How much you wanna bet she’ll call Mom on me?”

“How much you wanna bet your Mom will actually scold you for cheating?” Kageyama counters.

“I’m twenty-four and a war veteran,” Hinata complains. “She can’t scold me, that’s like…a right or something of mine.” Kageyama lays him down and settles in next to him, pulling the sheet over them and Hinata’s legs close to him.

“Did Natsu get plants in Paris?” Kageyama asks.

“Yeah,” Hinata says. “Mom would have gotten her anything—a dog, a cat, you name it—but Natsu wanted plants. That girl is a treasure. She’s going to grow up and become the world’s best botanist.”

“I would like to meet her,” Kageyama says thoughtfully, “after this is all over.”

Hinata eyes him, nose buried in the sheets. “I think she would like that, too. Finally, a real Kageyama to compare against her make-believe Kageyama.”

“A real, competent pilot, finally,” Kageyama teases.

“Hey!” Hinata protests, but he’s still looking at Kageyama strangely.

“What?” Kageyama asks. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Hinata doesn’t answer, and the bond is strangely quiet. Kageyama pulls the covers off of Hinata’s face and finds him frowning softly. “What’s wrong?” Kageyama asks, softer.

Hinata finally looks away. “I was just thinking about how nice it would have been to have a future with you,” he says quietly.

Kageyama presses a kiss to Hinata’s forehead. “I guess you can’t always be the optimistic one,” Kageyama says. “But that’s what you have me for. I’ll be your hope when you have none.”

Hinata smiles faintly. “I guess I can’t be.” He pauses. “What kind of house do you want?”

“Hmmm,” Kageyama thinks. “A decent size one, enough for two or three kids. But not so big it swallows us.”

“You want kids?” Hinata asks, excitedly. “I’ve always wanted kids. Athletic and fun ones. Ones that I can play volleyball with.”

“Oh, and I guess I’ll be changing all the diapers while you play?”  Kageyama says, rolling his eyes.

“Nah,” Hinata says. “I need someone to teach me how to set, right? That should be exciting—I never thought about being a setter before.” His smile is brittle.

“I always thought about living in the mountains,” Kageyama says quickly. “Somewhere far away from the ocean. I don’t think I can live in sight of water ever again in my life.”

“Me too,” Hinata agrees. “I always kind of wanted to run a little temple, you know? Have a nice little place that Mom can live in, Natsu and her family just down the road. Somewhere peaceful.”

“But not too peaceful,” Kageyama says.

Hinata laughs. “Right, but not too peaceful.”

“We can get you and the kids a dog,” Kageyama says. “I want a cat, though. All animals seem to hate me, but I think I can understand cats the best.”

“We’ll get you a nice, old cat,” Hinata says, smiling. “A rescue, named Mochi or something.”

“Mochi the cat,” Kageyama says. “I could live with that.”

“You know what sucks the most though?” Hinata says, sighing.

“What?” Kageyama asks.

“Man, we could have had _so much_ sex,” Hinata whines. “We have, what, three weeks to live? I didn’t get to have sex with you even once. We would have had crazy wheelchair sex, I read about all kinds of sex positions…”

Kageyama is very quiet.

Hinata backtracks. “Unless, of course, you don’t wa—”

“It’s not over yet,” Kageyama says.

“Huh?” Hinata says.

“It’s not…our time isn’t up yet,” Kageyama says. He sits up, propped up on his arm, and leans over Hinata. “I mean, we could still…”

“Oh,” Hinata says. “ _Oh_.”

Kageyama raises an eyebrow.

“No!” Hinata says. “I mean, we can’t. It’s…unprofessional, and, and—”

“I’m pretty sure we’re well past that point,” Kageyama snorts.

“And, we both have training tomorrow, and we have to plan for everything going to shit in three weeks, and—”

Kageyama frowns. “Do you…not want to have sex with me?”

“No!” Hinata shrieks. “I do! I absolutely do! I think about it all the time!” He flushes a bright enough pink for Kageyama to see it under the moonlight peeking in through the window.

“So why…?”

“I, uh, I want to have sex with you,” Hinata says, biting at his thumb. “But you…you might not want to have sex with me.”

Kageyama remembers every wet dream, every fantasy, every passing thought of touching Hinata that has haunted him for over a year. “Really. I don’t want to have sex with you,” Kageyama deadpans.

Apparently he projects enough for Hinata to see it too, because he squeaks and hides further under the blanket. “I mean! Sure! You wanted to have sex with me _then_ …but now…” Helplessly, Hinata gestures at his lower half. “I can’t…I can’t move. I can’t help you. I can’t do anything. Who wants to have sex with a limp doll?”

Kageyama places his hand on Hinata’s cheek. “Are dolls warm?” he asks.

Hinata blinks anxiously.

“Answer me, Shouyou,” Kageyama commands. “Are dolls warm?”

“N-no,” Hinata squeaks.

“Do dolls blush?”

“Hey, you’re just making fun of—”

“Answer the question.”

“No, they don’t.”

“Do dolls have so many beautiful facial expressions?” Kageyama demands. “Do dolls crack jokes? Do dolls risk their lives to save the world, time and time again? Do dolls love me despite all my flaws? Do dolls want a future with me?”

“No,” Hinata sniffles, tears dripping down his face.

Kageyama kisses each of his tears away, nuzzling against Hinata’s cheek. “You’re not a doll, Hinata Shouyou. I couldn’t love a doll. But I love _you_. You’re living and breathing and everything I want. Every part of you. You couldn’t be Hinata Shouyou if you weren’t a sum of all your parts. What’s the point in tearing you apart?”

“Come down here,” Hinata croaks. “I want to kiss you to hide my ugly crying.”

Kageyama does.

Hinata’s lips tremble when they meet, but his hands slide up Kageyama’s stubbly jaw and into his hair, pulling him close and tugging at his hair. Hinata’s doubt and embarrassment melts away when Kageyama kisses him. Kageyama could lie with his words, he could—but he cannot lie with his mouth, the way he chases Hinata’s tongue with his own, sucks his bottom lip bruised, all but begs Hinata to kiss him harder, _harder_.

Hinata does.

He arches his back, focuses every muscle of his body that still obeys him to pull Kageyama closer, to leave a stinging trail of heat where his hands trace down Kageyama’s neck and shoulders, heart bursting through his chest in an attempt to become one with Kageyama’s. He twines their tongues like he twines their bond, the two-way echo of love and desire pulsing through their minds.

Kageyama moves to Hinata’s neck, and Hinata clutches harder at his hair. With everything he lost, it seemed to Hinata like he gained sensitivity in the rest of his body, and to feel a warm mouth on his neck just made him want to bare himself more. There was something about the intimacy of another human’s teeth at his neck—the feeling of ultimate trust and the pulse of blood just under the skin. Hinata holds Kageyama’s face close to his skin as Kageyama sucks at his skin, a spiking pain-pleasure that makes Hinata’s back arch again.

Kageyama bites him harder in warning. “If you keep doing that, I’m going to have trouble taking this slow,” Kageyama growls.

“So don’t,” Hinata whines.

“No way,” Kageyama huffs. “I’m going to enjoy every inch of your skin and mark you all over. You’re mine, Shouyou—no one can take you away from me, not even the kaiju or your own doubts.”

“Make me a believer,” Hinata says.

A believer in what, he’s not sure. In Kageyama’s faith in the future, perhaps? Sure, Hinata had been the one lying on the phone, but under his fear of death and Hinata’s death, Kageyama truly believed that they would come home at the end of the day. _Make me believe in that future, Tobio. Give me a reason to claw my way, tooth and nail, towards that future._

Kageyama pulls off Hinata’s shirt, lays him bare, and straddles his hips. He runs his hands down Hinata’s sides, broad and strong, and Hinata feels _safe_. Owned. Protected. Belonging. Hinata remembers those hands when they threw him up against a wall the first time they met, now so tenderly stroking his bare skin like it was something worth worshipping. Hinata laughs, and it startles Kageyama.

“What?” he asks.

“It’s nothing,” Hinata says. “Take your shirt off and I’ll tell you.”

Kageyama pulls off his shirt and Hinata sits up to meet him. Hinata presses his face against the side of Kageyama’s neck. “I was thinking about when we first met,” he murmurs. “You manhandled me something awful. We _hated_ each other. And now, here we are.”

He moves up to Kageyama’s ear. “You’re hard in your pajamas, just from touching my skin, and you’re only minutes away from being inside me. Funny how that works, isn’t it?”

Kageyama growls and pushes Hinata back, but Hinata uses that momentum to flip Kageyama over and roll on top of him. “Hush, baby. I’m not done talking about you yet,” Hinata purrs.

“How could I have known you would turn out to be the most reliable, the most loving partner I could have asked for?” Hinata says. “I knew you were talented, god was I jealous of your skill level, but I never imagined being able to harness that, to work in harmony with it. Other pilots are great, sure, but how can they compare to you, Tobio? You match me, you understand me. I don’t want to pilot with anyone else.”

“Shouyou…” Kageyama rasps.

“Did you know I wanted you?” Hinata asks. “I buried that desire so deep I nearly fooled myself into believing it wasn’t true, but everything you did attracted me to you. Your body, your movements,” his hands trace down Kageyama’s jaw and neck, “your voice, your tone,” down his shoulders and arms, “your emotions, your past,” down his chest and sides… “I love you, Tobio.”

“How lucky am I to have such a beautiful and pure partner?” Hinata whispers.

“Please,” Kageyama whines. “Please, I need…I need to touch you, I need to be _inside_ you, Shouyou, _please_.”

Hinata falls onto his back, hands above his head. “I’m yours.”

Kageyama scrambles on top of him gracelessly but carefully, making sure not to crush Hinata. He fetches lube out of their bedside table, and despite it not being his first time, Hinata feels a flutter of uncertainty in his stomach. Kageyama feels it too and hesitates.

“It’s okay,” Hinata says. “I just…want this to be good for you.”

“And I want this to be good for you,” Kageyama says, sliding off Hinata’s pajamas and touching him for the first time.

Hinata can’t help it; he arches up again like a cat. It’s not even the touch, or the cold of the lube, it’s the fact that it’s Kageyama, finally. His one true and perfect partner, touching him and wanting him in the most intimate way possible. Kageyama takes both of them in his hand, broad enough to wrap comfortable around them both, and Hinata lets out a shuddering breath. Kageyama strokes up and down, up and down while Hinata throws an arm over his eyes and pants, fingers twitching and clutching at nothing.

“I’m going to prepare you now,” Kageyama tells him. “I’ll be very careful.”

Hinata can’t feel Kageyama slide his fingers in. maybe the slightest sense of discomfort, but no real feeling. What he does feel, and quite well, is Kageyama’s mouth on him, making him seize up again and gasp at the warmth around him. Hinata wants to cry, wants to come, but Kageyama doesn’t change from his sluggish pace of tracing his tongue up and down Hinata’s length.

“Are you ready?” Kageyama asks.

“To come? Abso-fucking-lutely,” Hinata growls.

“I’m going to try something,” Kageyama says.

Hinata doesn’t know what he means until Kageyama overwhelms the bond, letting his thoughts and feelings overpower the connection. And when he slides into Hinata, into the tightness and warmth around him, Hinata feels every minute detail of how his body pleases Kageyama.

 _A doll?_ Kageyama thinks. _Give me a break. You’re the best, the best thing that has ever happened to me._

Hinata cries. He cries, and his dick aches, and then Kageyama is stroking him in time with his thrusts, and Hinata feels _everything._ No pain, no sadness, nothing but pleasure and love and _fulfillment_. He’s so in tune with Kageyama that when Kageyama shudders and comes, Hinata is right alongside him.

The feeling of release in unison with the man he loves does something to Hinata—he sees stars. Not the stars sparking just behind his eyelids, or the stars of the Milky Way, or even the stars of the Anteverse, but a distant galaxy, cloudy and twinkling, and at the center of it all, Kageyama, brighter than any cosmic dust could ever be.

Hinata thinks of the Precursors, and of the human race. From that cosmic dust, both of their races were born, and to dust both of their races would decay to. What was there to fear from aliens? They were beings just as humans were beings. The happenings of their galaxies were but dust in the solar wind, tiny and meaningless—yet, meaning everything.

As Hinata holds Kageyama in his arms, their foreheads pressed together and bound as tightly as two humans could be in mind and in body, Hinata swears he can feel the brush of Kageyama’s soul against his, promising that come what may, they would be together until the end. And in his mind, Hinata can feel something like a gash and something like a scar sealing itself up, the voices quieting for once in his life since he woke up, as if in awe of a connection as pure and as beautiful as the one between them.

“I’m going to clean up,” Kageyama says gently, pulling out of Hinata and taking off the condom Hinata hadn’t even noticed him putting on. Hinata doesn’t say anything, just watches Kageyama’s naked form recede from their room, something like a lump forming in his throat.

“Tobio?” Hinata calls.

After a moment, Kageyama’s head appears around the door. “Yeah?”

“We’re going to win,” Hinata says. “We’re definitely going to win.”

Kageyama smiles. “There’s the Shouyou I know,” he says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> everyone dies next chapter


	13. you can fight the hurricane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BREATHES HEAVILY OKAY IM NOT GONNA LEAVE A LONG NOTE BC AS WE SPEAK IM WORKING ON THE LAST CHAPTER--
> 
> i decided that instead of trying to push these last two chapters to the limit and throw in a lot of extra scenes, i am just going to keep them short and sweet and let the action take me where it wants to take me. these last two chapters are almost solidly a big fight scene anyway lol!
> 
> get ready: here it is. the end of this fucking monster fic.

_Undo this storm_  
_Undo this storm_  
 _Undo this storm and wait_  
 _I can't control withering wonders_  
 _Flowers that lose their shape_  
  
_I lie awake and watch it all_  
 _It feels like thousand eyes_  
 _I lie awake and watch it all_  
 _It feels like thousand eyes_  
  
_I'll be the calm_  
 _I will be quiet_  
 _Stripped to the bone, I wait_  
 _No, I'll be a stone, I'll be the hunter_  
 _A tower that casts a shade_  
  
_I lie awake and watch it all_  
 _It feels like thousand eyes_  
 _I lie awake and watch it all_  
 _It feels like thousand eyes_  
 _I lie awake and watch it all_  
 _It feels like thousand eyes_  
  
_I am the storm_  
 _I am the storm_  
 _I am the storm_  
 _So wait_

 _  
_ \-- _Thousand Eyes,_ Of Monsters and Men

 

Marshal Ukai—senior, not junior—had said that all Rangers have a seventh sense embedded in their hearts and souls. Not the sixth sense every person had, the creeping of paranoia or that gut clench that humans never grew out of after millions of years of evolution, but a stronger, more complete sense of _knowing_. He said that every Ranger would know when their time of greatness had come. Hinata and Kageyama know; they’ve memorized every word the old Marshal wrote in his memoir, or said in an interview.

Kageyama imagines Iwaizumi must have known. They both know that Daichi felt his calling.

It’s like that, for them now.

No one kept a countdown for the general’s arrival, aside from the massive clock in the Shatterdome, ticking down the weeks, days, hours, minutes until he would rise from the Anteverse. They didn’t need to. The countdown was always there at the forefront of their minds, a number that could be recalled at any moment. The morning he arrives, Hinata and Kageyama wake before dawn.

Kageyama feels something heavy in his chest as he looks at Hinata, lying in bed and memorizing every detail of his face. Hinata’s thumb strokes his arm absently, his own eyes tracing the lines under Kageyama’s eyes, the shape of his nose, the curl of his lips. _Remember, remember._ Kageyama fears he might cry, but the weight sits still in his chest, making his heart thud and his throat close up.

What do you say to your lover before you die?

Kageyama wants the slow and the delicate back. Every night since they learned the date of the apocalypse they’ve tossed and turned over each other, restless and haunted. Kageyama wants to hold Hinata still, to keep him from slipping from Kageyama’s hands, but he can’t even keep himself still, let alone Hinata. He wants to know every inch of Hinata’s skin, the placement of each freckle, but he’s running out of time, running out of _time_.

There was no time for soft and careful, only time for the violence of desperation, clawing between each of the couples as the hold each other so tightly at night, they pretend they don’t shake. Kageyama and Hinata, Tsukishima and Yamaguchi, Kuroo and Kenma, Bokuto and Akaashi. Noya and Asahi. Ukai and Takeda. Tanaka, Saeko, Michimiya, Kiyoko. Suga. They speak each other’s names; count the names of their comrades along each mark on their partner’s body, each pair together, but never quite alone.

No pilot is ever alone.

Every one of them lies awake, watching the minutes of their clocks tick down, as if they can feel the very essence of their lives trickling away with every passing second. When all that is left is despair, there is no room to fill with the love of another, even for the lightest of hearts.

Kageyama and Hinata watch each other.

Tsukishima turns off Yamaguchi’s clock.

Kuroo holds Kenma as they whisper.

Akaashi sits atop Bokuto, just watching him.

Noya and Asahi close their eyes and tangle their limbs, willing each other’s heartbeats to calm.

Ukai and Takeda share a coffee.

Tanaka, Saeko, Michimiya, and Kiyoko do not sleep. They work.

And Suga clutches his dog tags and closes his eyes, shaking his head back and forth.

Saeko catches the first blip on their radar of the kaiju’s appearance. She closes her eyes, as if playing the game of children: _I can’t see you, you can’t see me_. But he is still there, emerging with the slow certainty of a glacier. “Kaiju signature detected,” Saeko reports. She steals the breath of everyone in the room.

“Is it him?” Ukai asks, moving from Takeda’s side to approach the screen.

Saeko nods. “The diameter of the Breach is swelling—it’s slow, not the usual expansion and collapse of shuttling kaiju through the portal. Hinata was right. This kaiju is _big_.”

“Can we get a category estimate?” Ukai asks, frowning at the holo display.

“Do you see that, Marshal?” Saeko’s smile twists her face unpleasantly. “The Breach has stretched to accommodate a Category Five kaiju. But do you know what that is, emerging from the Breach?” Ukai doesn’t answer. “It’s his paw,” Saeko says hollowly. “His foot is bigger than any kaiju on record.”

Ukai takes a long, slow sip of his coffee.

“Should we tell the Rangers?” Takeda asks.

“It doesn’t matter,” Ukai says. “There’s nothing to hide from them. They knew the odds were stacked against us. If they want to see his size, let them.” He steps away from Saeko’s station. “Pardon me, there’s not enough liquor in my coffee to make being awake worth it.”

Takeda’s hands curl into fists with the effort of not reaching out to touch the Marshal as he passes. Instead, he looks to Saeko, for guidance or for comfort, he’s not sure. But he finds neither in her eyes, just the calm, hollow knowledge that the world was very slowly, very methodically falling around them.

“He’s taking his time,” Saeko says. “There’s no rush to this expansion. If anything, he’s moving slowly in order to make the Breach easier to repair once he passes through. We could assemble and send in all our Jaegers, all our nukes, within the time it’ll take him to get the front half of his body through. We could bomb him to hell.”

“Then why…?” Takeda says.

“Because it’ll be useless,” Saeko says simply. “The Precursors are so confident in their ultimate weapon that they don’t need to guard him from our attacks. In other words, it’s their version of flipping their middle finger at us, because they know our weaponry isn’t advanced enough to take him down.”

After that, Takeda finds he has nothing else to say. He stands at the back of the room, coffee bitter on his tongue, watching with all the other technicians and Saeko as the Breach’s diameter swells, breaking records every second that passes.

 

\----------------------------

 

Hinata thinks about his routine in detail for the first time in his life. Five in the morning seemed to be a reasonable time to rise and shine, with roll call at seven. He feels the cotton of his shirt as he pulls it over his head, listens to the swish of covers being shoved to the side, takes in the muted color of their bedroom. In the bathroom, Kageyama showers, but he does not sing. Hinata almost wishes he would.

_Silent night, holy night. All is calm, all is bright._

_Shepherds quake at the sight._

Hinata shakes himself from his thoughts. Instead, he focuses on the stretch of his muscles as he lowers himself into his wheelchair, on the bumping over the uneven floor as he rolls into the kitchen. Kageyama has warm pork buns waiting for him, and Hinata smiles. They’re going to eat with the others, but a last supper wouldn’t be complete without one of Hinata’s favorite foods.

“You ready to go?” Kageyama asks, toweling off his hair as Hinata finishes his last bite. Hinata nods.

Kageyama wheels Hinata into the mess hall, more for something to do rather than necessity. Akaashi and Bokuto are already there, Bokuto lounging across the top of the table and Akaashi finishing up a book. They’re deceptively calm, but Hinata and Kageyama can see the bags under their eyes.

“Did you sleep at all?” Kageyama tuts, moving to Akaashi’s side.

Akaashi smiles and shakes their head. They gesture to the book. “I’ve been reading it aloud to Koutarou. It’s my favorite novel.”

“I fell asleep in the middle,” Bokuto adds from the table. “Didn’t sleep very well, though.”

“Did any of us?” Kuroo says, appearing from around the corner. “I’m exhausted.” He slinks into the room with his usual liquid grace, but there’s a telling slump to his shoulders. Kenma sticks close to him, like a shadow. Yamaguchi and Tsukishima are right behind them.

Yamaguchi stretches his arms above his head and yawns. “Doesn’t really feel like the end of the world,” he says. Kenma flinches.

“Yeah? That’s ‘cause your head is still in the clouds, kid,” Kuroo says.

“Leave him alone,” Tsukishima says, command lacking heat. “We’re all exhausted and sore at our lot in life and we all handle it differently.”

“Did you see the size of the kaiju yet?” Bokuto asks. Everyone turns to look at him. Without sitting up, Bokuto lifts a touchpad in the air and waves it slowly back and forth. “He’s on his way, slowly but surely.”

Kageyama takes it from him and shares the screen with Hinata. Hinata’s lips purse, but other than that, they manage to keep straight faces. The other two teams react similarly. By the time Yamaguchi hands it back, an air of solemnness has descended upon the group. They settle around the cafeteria table, appetites lost.

Well, aside from one.

“What would you eat if you could have anything in the world right now?” Hinata asks. “If a gourmet chef appeared in front of us suddenly, what would you order from him? I want tamago kake gohan. A nice soft egg over rice…” His stomach growls. The assembled give him incredulous looks.

“They serve that here,” Kageyama points out.

“Yeah, but it sucks!” Hinata protests. “Their rice is soggy and the egg is rubbery!”

“Dream bigger,” Bokuto chimes in. “How about a full barbeque?”

The pilots murmur in agreement.

“I’ll take pork curry and that’s all, thanks,” Kageyama says. He pauses. “Well, with an egg on top.”

“I could go for grilled mackerel,” Kuroo adds. “Kenma?”

“Apple pie…” Kenma murmurs.

Kuroo laughs. “Dessert is really good, too! I forgot about that.”

“Kei wants shortcake,” Yamaguchi pipes up, picking at his nails.

Tsukishima bristles. “Well, Tadashi wants French fries—the soggy ones.”

“Ew…”

“What the fuck?”

“Gross.”

“They’re good!” Yamaguchi protests, turning red. “Keiji-san, what about you?”

Akaashi blinks as all attention turns on them. “Ah, well. Nanohana with mustard dressing, I suppose.”

“ _Ew._ ”

“ _What the fuck._ ”

“ _Vegetables?_ ”

“When we get back, we can order something special for everyone,” Akaashi says quietly. They don’t try to meet anyone’s eyes.

“When we get back, I’m sure we’ll be served by the best chefs in Japan,” Yamaguchi adds.

“When we get back…” Kuroo murmurs. “I suppose there’s no reason to talk in doomsday terms. Alright, when we get back.”

“Don’t get all caught up on good food,” Tsukishima says. “We still only have the shitty cafeteria food to look forward to for breakfast.”

In a way, though, it’s nice. The Rangers are the only people to populate the kitchen, all non-essential personnel evacuated and essential personnel camped up in Mission Control or the Shatterdome, preparing for the final battle. There’s a sense of camaraderie and safety when all the pilots are together, eight accomplished kaiju veterans, focused and ready to battle. When Hinata rubs shoulders with the comrades he’s put his faith in for the past two years, he feels—dare he say it—safe.

They all finish their food to the last bit of oatmeal or the last grain of rice. Even Tsukishima, notorious for eating significantly less than the others, takes a massive helping and finishes it. No one needs to say it— _we need all the strength we can get_.

“Best get going,” Akaashi says. “Thirty minutes to roll call.”

“Come to think of it,” Bokuto says as they head for the Shatterdome, “how long is this fight going to take? I never considered the stamina we might need.”

“We don’t know,” Kenma says. “Much longer than a typical battle, I’d assume.”

“It’ll take as long as it takes,” Tsukishima grouses. “I, for one, plan to retire as soon as this battle is over. I’ve served my country long enough, thanks.”

“Eh? For real?” Bokuto asks. “I can’t imagine doing anything but this for as long as I’m still kicking. Although, I wouldn’t mind a seven year vacation to see the world. Especially Fiji. Have you _seen_ the beaches there?”

“Oh dear,” Akaashi says. “I’m much too fair for the beach.”

“We can sit in a hammock together,” Kenma suggests. “Somewhere out of the sun with drinks.”

“Ah, that sounds much more agreeable,” Akaashi says.

“I want to go to Paris to see my family,” Hinata says. “Piloting again is probably a bad idea for me. And to New York, to meet Kageyama’s family!”

“We could go on a road trip in America,” Kageyama says.

“I think I’ll be here,” Yamaguchi says shyly. The group turns to look at him and he waves his hands, flustered. “Ah! Not that your trips don’t sound wonderful or anything! But I just…” He scratches at his nose. “Someone’s got to be a role model for the new cadets the Marshal will bring in to train. And I don’t particularly have any travel aspirations, so…I’d rather just stay here and take care of them.”

Bokuto slings an arm around Yamaguchi’s shoulder. “Atta boy!” he crows. “There’s honor in staying behind, too! You’ll be the guardian of this base, looking after it when the other giants have left.”

“It’s not anything that grand,” Yamaguchi squeaks. He peeks at Tsukishima. “It’s a shame you won’t stay though, Kei!” he says. “We could have been the next point team.”

“My dreams were never that big in the first place,” Tsukishima says. “I’ll be in Tokyo, though. The very least I can do with my fame is get him a better hospital.” He doesn’t need to say who. The only person Tsukishima ever spoke that tenderly about was Akiteru.

It’s loud before they even reach the Shatterdome, noise bouncing off the walls and down the corridors. The scene of high traffic and bustling activity before a drop isn’t anything new, but the quality of the activity is. Where there once was the exchange of friendly insults and shouted messages between mechanics and technicians working on the Jaegers, now there are only muted conversations and groups huddled together, faces grim. Every sound is mechanical and jarring, harsh.

The Rangers split up in the Shatterdome, making their way to their respective mechanic teams for a check of their Jaegers. Akaashi and Bokuto swing aboard a moving platform before it can rise, performing their own check of their Jaeger as per usual. Tsukishima stands with his hands on his hips, nodding tightly as his head mechanic talks. Hinata and Kageyama’s head mechanic is Tanaka, and he talks them through the new setup of their Jaeger.

“It’s different than what you’re used to, of course,” Tanaka says to Hinata. “You’re going to need to be lifted into it. It’s designed to support you from the hips rather than you supporting yourself. You’ll be sealed in from the waist down.”

He looks Hinata in the eyes. “You need to understand this,” he says. “Once you get in the Jaeger, you will not get out of it until the battle has ended. There is no way to release yourself and no escape vessel. You’re in Tyrant Omega to the bitter end.”

“That was always the deal,” Hinata says, smiling. “It’s okay, Tanaka-san. I know what I’m getting myself into.”

Tanaka sighs. “I hope you do,” he says. “I hope you do.”

“Line up!” Marshal Ukai calls, marching into the Shatterdome, flanked by Takeda and Saeko. “We drop in an hour!”

It’s pretty brief for a check-up, but Hinata figures the mechanics have done thorough tests of their Jaegers’ functionality since early in the morning, possibly through the night. Bokuto and Akaashi don’t look happy about being called back early, but they obey and line up with the others.

“Everything alright?” Ukai says, looking at Bokuto and Akaashi but addressing all the pilots. “Any problems?” When no one replies he nods and takes a deep breath. “Good. It’s time to get to work, gentlemen.

“As predicted, he’s taking his sweet time, so we’ll start with evacuations from the coast on in. The other bases know by now that he’s coming. Takeda and I contacted them, told them that we had a team assembled. They’re on standby, setting up their own Rangers to pick up where we leave off. We’re trying to clear out as much of the country as we can. Those further inland aren’t as used to the evacuations as those on the east and south coasts. Emergency shelters are being put up as we speak. Your job right down is to safeguard the coast.” The corner of Ukai’s mouth quirks. “Jaegers always seem to speed up evacuations, anyway. They mean trouble.”

“How soon can we expect to wait until we fight?” Kageyama asks.

“Three or four hours,” Ukai says.

“He only just got his two front legs through the Breach,” Saeko says. “We have time.” The frown on her face says _but not that much time_.

Ukai looks up. “Yes, Tanaka?” He doesn’t mean Saeko. Tanaka approaches the group, bringing with him a mob of mechanics and technicians.

“We’d like to see you off,” Tanaka says. “I’m staying voluntarily—as are many others—but all of us wanted to send you off with well wishes before you got into your Jaegers.”

Ukai blinks. “Very well,” he says. He turns to the pilots. “Would any of you like to say a few words?”

Bokuto, of course, steps forward. He bows to the crowd. “Thank you all for taking care of us. I know Keiji and I were especially troublesome with all our nitpicking.” A couple laughs. Bokuto grins. “We really appreciate all you do and we’ll be fighting our hardest to keep you safe so please, feel no shame in retreating. It’s our job to take care of _you_ from here on out.” He bows again, deeper, and steps back.

Kuroo raises a hand. “Kenma and I aren’t the most pleasant to be around, either. Most of you know Koutarou and Keiji as heroes. Most of you also know how shitty of a reputation Kenma and I have, but you took great care of us anyway. Thank you. It was an honor ending our service at Miyagi’s base.” He bows.

Yamaguchi steps forward too, ducking his head a little. “I’ll be coming back to help train new recruits, so please continue to take care of me,” he says, smiling fiercely.

Hinata simply raises his fist to the sky.

The other pilots follow suit, then one by one, the staff of the Miyagi base follow his lead, silently lifting their fists to the sky. Saeko does. Takeda does. Even Ukai, rolling his eyes fondly, raises his fist.

And then Noya pushes through the crowd, Asahi trailing behind him. He’s out of breath from running, presumably so he didn’t miss the send-off, but he’s still smiling. He steps up to the pilots and presses a fist to Hinata’s chest. “Win,” he says simply.

Hinata nods. “We will.”

“One, two—” Tanaka says.

“ _Good luck!_ ” The voices of the Miyagi base ring out in unison, followed by clapping. The pilots exchange hugs and fist bumps, each with a determined set to their mouth and hard eyes. Bokuto and Kuroo joke under their breaths. Akaashi and Kenma press their foreheads together. Yamaguchi claps Kageyama’s hand and Tsukishima ruffles Hinata’s hair with a sigh. The Miyagi base staff continue to clap even as the Rangers turn away, moving towards their elevators and prep rooms, getting ready to put on their drivesuits and enter the fray.

Hinata’s heart swells as he rolls into the elevator, Kageyama at his side. “I thought it would feel like heading to my grave,” Hinata says. “I thought their send-off would be a farewell, but instead, it feels like—”

“They’re cheering us on,” Kageyama says. “They still have hope that we’ll make it.”

“I want to make it back,” Hinata says softly. “I really, really want to make it back.”

Kageyama squeezes his shoulder. “Me too,” he says.

Hinata’s drivesuit fits him like a second skin, as familiar as his last drop all those months ago. It makes him feel powerful, knowing that with this skin he could compel Omega to move. _Omega._ Now _there_ was someone whose head Hinata missed being in. Omega wasn’t like Kageyama, a stream of emotions and images and thoughts, but he was a blanket, comforting and warm. A constant consciousness in and around Hinata and Kageyama.

“Omega shielded you when the kaiju attacked me, didn’t he?” Hinata asks.

“He did,” Kageyama says, tugging the suit up at his shoulders. “He’s probably part of the reason my mind is unharmed.”

“I feel safer riding with him,” Hinata says. “It’s stupid but…I feel like he’ll work extra hard to keep me safe since last time I got hurt so bad.” The Drift techs zip up Hinata’s drivesuit.

Kageyama smiles. “I think you’re right,” he says. “Omega always looks out for us in his own way.”

Hinata wonders what the general will think of Omega, half-Jaeger and half-kaiju. Was he smart enough to realize the similarities? Would he call on Omega as an ally? Hinata smiles. He could _try_. Omega served no one but Kageyama and Hinata.

Hinata’s heart beats faster as the Drift technicians accompany him and Kageyama to Omega’s Conn-Pod. He feels eerily calm and clear-headed—there’s no rookie rush of adrenaline fogging up his senses and making him twitchy. Despite his medication, he doesn’t feel the least bit drowsy, energized by the Miyagi base’s staff’s enthusiasm for the pilots. And across the Shatterdome, he can see Tsukishima and Yamaguchi in the deep blue and yellow of their drivesuits, chins held high and ready for action.

It takes a bit of finagling to lower Hinata into the Conn-Pod. His wheelchair obviously would not fit down the hatch, so he has to be lowered and carried to the command platform. It’s a little embarrassing, but he makes himself limp in the technicians’ arms to ease their strain and allow them to move him freely.

The command platform looks more like a seat with leg rests than the command platform Hinata was used to seeing. He fits snugly into the seat—not too tight and not too loose. Amused, Hinata wonders how many surreptitious looks Noya had to sneak at his ass to get a good idea of how to size the seat.

Kageyama does a bad job of covering up a snort when he sees Hinata reclined in his custom command platform. Hinata pouts.

“Don’t get jealous just because you don’t get to sit on the job,” he sniffs.

“I’m not,” Kageyama says, face twisting in an attempt not to smile. “Noya did a great job designing it. He should make one for me.”

“It’ll have to be a completely new one, though,” Hinata sighs, shaking his head. “Your ass is too flat to fit in this one.”

Kageyama’s jaw drops. “When we get back, I’m kicking your ass until it’s as flat as mine,” he hisses.

Hinata laughs.

He slides on the gauntlet, Kageyama stepping onto his own command platform. Diagnostics flicker across the HUD, and in Hinata’s ear, he can hear Saeko and the other technicians up in Mission Control running tests. Their voices form the soft background noise of pre-drop checks and anticipation. Hinata leans further back into his seat.

He watches the roof doors open, tiny ants of mechanics guiding the cargo helicopters into place to lift the Jaegers from the Shatterdome. Along the ground, men and women release the Jaegers from their platforms. The sound of fans whirring fills the Shatterdome as the engines come to life. Across the com, Bokuto is telling another joke and Tsukishima is shooting him down in tandem with Akaashi.

This is home.

Kageyama looks over at Hinata, hearing the thought clear as day. He offers a smile, confident and strong. “This is home,” he says. “This is where you belong.”

“It’s good to be back,” Hinata says. He presses the com. “Saeko-neesan? We’re ready.”

 **Roger that** , she says.

The neural handshake pulls Hinata across the bridge, spinning him through joined memories, happy and sad. He lets them go. Hinata has made peace with those memories. He lives only for the present now. Omega is a third heartbeat in their trio, stirring at the edge of Hinata’s consciousness.

“Been a long time, huh?” he says to Omega. The Jaeger doesn’t respond, but keeps swirling around him. It’s as much as a homecoming welcome as Hinata is going to get.

Kageyama runs their pre-drop checks. “All good with you?” he asks.

“All good,” Hinata says.

“Saeko-neesan, we’re ready for the drop,” Kageyama says.

 **Bought time you pulled your own weight,** Bokuto says, laughing over the com.

 **Getting lazy now, are we?** Kuroo says.

 **Alright, children, enough of that,** Kenma sighs.

 **Are we all accounted for?** Yamaguchi asks.

 **We’re the last,** Kageyama affirms. **All Jaeger teams ready for the drop.**

 **Alright,** Saeko says. **Time to move out.**

 

\----------------------------------------

 

It’s weird, Hinata thinks, to see the Miyagi surroundings like this. Empty.

The area wasn’t excessively populated along the coast—their biggest city, Sendai, was further inland from the base and the main protection focus of the Miyagi base. Evacuations would be carried out past Sendai, but the further inland the evacuation was pushed, the slower it would be. People inland weren’t as scared of kaiju, given that the bases were usually good enough to stop the kaiju attacks before they were able to annihilate the coastal cities and towns.

The coastal people knew that when the bases said clear the area, they meant _clear the area_ , especially with an evacuation zone as big as the one Ukai was insisting on. Hinata would bet that the coastal people already had an idea that something big and dangerous was coming. They were survivors—they knew how to uproot their lives and save themselves. Those weren’t the people they were worried about.

Tyrant Omega drops into the water, landing easily and creating a huge swell that knocks around the boats tied up at the dock. The few stragglers that had yet to evacuate in the hours since the general started to make his appearance pull to the side to take pictures of Omega with their smartphones. He would be quite the catch—Omega hadn’t been deployed for months, after all.

In truth, this Jaeger ‘evacuation’ was all a publicity stunt. The pilots would stand there, twiddling their thumb and blasting the emergency broadcast messages from their loudspeakers to the mostly empty city in an attempt to convince the inland people that this was serious business. A news helicopter flies overhead, no doubt reporting on the appearance of all four of Miyagi’s Jaegers and their strange behavior.

“Go on already,” Hinata mutters to no one, looking down at the small crowd assembling in front of their Jaeger. “Don’t you know it’s dangerous?”

“They don’t know how dangerous,” Kageyama sighs. “This is all routine to them now. Sure, we’re being extra cautious, but we won’t get everyone out. We’ve done the best we could.”

Hinata tucks his chin against his chest. “How far inland do you think he’ll make it?”

After a moment, Kageyama says, “To Sendai.”

Hinata closes his eyes. “They will never be able to clear the city, even with a nationwide alert.”

“No,” Kageyama agrees. “A lot of people are going to die.”

“I wish—” Hinata starts, then stops. The good feeling of the sendoff has evaporated. It was gone as soon as Hinata saw the empty city, realized this really would be a fight for their lives. “I wish we could stop him before he makes landfall,” he says quietly.

“I wish we could stop him before he takes out all of Japan,” Kageyama says. “After Sendai, you know he’ll go for Tokyo.”

“I know,” Hinata says. “Then Yokohama, then Nagoya, then Kyoto, then Osaka…he’ll wipe Japan off the face of the Earth.” He looks down. He can see a little girl on her father’s shoulders, waving a toy at Omega. It’s them, Hinata realizes. She’s waving a tiny Omega at the real thing.

 _We’re heroes,_ Hinata says. He directs Kageyama’s eyes to the little girl. _I forgot, but we’re really heroes. We have to try hard so we don’t disappoint everyone_.

“You sure have some kind of hero complex,” Kageyama mutters.

“What?” Hinata asks.

“You take all of the burden on yourself,” Kageyama sighs. “You forget that we’re not alone. It’s four against one. And over eight minds working against one.”

 _We have a chance,_ he says. _It might be enough_.

 _It’s all we have,_ Hinata says. _A chance_.

Hinata watches the little girl finish waving and get lowered from her father’s shoulders. They leave, replaced by a new group of onlookers, thirsty for a glimpse of the famous Jaegers that had run defense of their coastlines so many times. The Jaegers that kept them alive.

Hinata imagines what they’re saying. _Look how many Jaegers they sent out this time. Haven’t seen Omega in a while. We’re safe now that they’re here. A kaiju won’t be able to break through this many Jaegers. Don’t worry; if they’re here it must be a small one, we can take a few pictures…_

He shifts in the command platform.

“I know,” Kageyama says, quelling him. “They need to get going.”

“What if he charges us?” Hinata say through gritted teeth. “He shouldn’t be able to move fast, but—if he could—”

 **Time to wrap things up, guys** , Saeko’s voice comes over the com. **He’s almost through. Get into position.**

Hinata wishes for one of Bokuto's stupid jokes or Tsukishima’s scathing remarks. He wishes he could muster up a cheer for them, but the com is a graveyard. Silent. The Jaegers move out, turning and churning waters as they make for the edges of the launch bay.

They’re staying in firmly shallow water—the general is tall enough that deep water shouldn’t be a problem for him to stand in, so the Jaeger teams want to be playing on safe ground. The more advantages they have, the better off they’ll be. And then it’s a waiting game.

Saeko gives them updates on his position, rising from the ocean floor, but as in his exit through the Breach, he’s taking his time swimming towards the surface. Gamma Raptor shifts her position like a fighter circling the ring, looking for the best position to strike. Strike has his rifle propped up on his shoulder and Tsukishima and Yamaguchi are scanning for signs of the ocean surface breaking. Scrapper stands still, waiting for the moment he will need to drop to four legs. And Omega, Omega breathes, the whir of his idling engines creating the illusion of respiration. The hairs on the back of Hinata’s neck stand up.

The com crackles to life. **We’ve got something,** Yamaguchi says.

The Jaegers shift uncomfortably. Scrapper sinks to all fours smoothly, waves slapping against his titanium arms and legs. Hinata opens and closes his hand around the gauntlet. He glances at Kageyama.

“Ready?” he asks.

“As I’ll ever be,” Kageyama says. He presses the com. “What’re we looking at, Yamaguchi?”

Silence.

Kageyama’s finger hovers over the com. “C’mon Yamaguchi,” he murmurs. He presses the com again, opening his mouth to repeat the question before Yamaguchi breaks the silence.

 **I’m sorry,** Yamaguchi says. Fragile. Shattering. **I’m sorry.**

 **What do you see, Strike?** Kenma asks, insistent.

 **Why don’t you look for yourself?** Tsukishima suggests dully. **He’s here.**

Hinata turns his attention to the HUD again, peering out into the ocean. It’s overcast, clouds covering up most of the sunlight, so something dark and big should show up pretty well. Over the black water of the ocean, though, nothing reveals itself. Except…

Hinata squints. “Is that…” he says. He zooms in on the tiny disturbance in the distance.

Ocean waves lap around something. Hinata thinks it’s a big rock or something until he remembers that right, he was looking into the deep water of the ocean, and there were no _big rocks_. His throat tightens, closing so tightly that his thick swallowing becomes painful. That was…that was _him_.

The rock-looking shape becomes a column, slowly but steadily rising from the deep. All around the one column, several other columns rise, tapering to a point. They look like rock formations in a desert, only black and wet. They rise like buildings from the water, glimmering under the low light.

 **His horns,** Tsukishima says. **Just in case you were wondering.**

 **They’re as tall as Gamma,** Akaashi says softly. **No…perhaps some are taller.**

The horns curve inward—claws reaching for heaven. It’s still the only part of the general that has been revealed, and all of the Jaegers could fit on the crown of his head, with room to spare. A single headbutt would plow through the armor of any of the Jaegers if it connected.

Hinata fumbles for the com. “Strike, can you get a visual on his armor at the top of his head? If it’s soft between the horns it could be a weak spot,” Hinata says.

 **Right,** Yamaguchi says. After a moment, he speaks again. **Looks like armor plating all the way through. Good thinking Shouyou, but I don’t think it looks like a weakness.**

“Damn,” Hinata murmurs.

 **He stopped,** Bokuto says. **He’s not moving anymore.**

Bokuto's not wrong. The horns are stationary, not even the bridge of the kaiju’s eye or his muzzle are shown. No spines from his back or neck either. He’s sitting still in the water. Hinata has the eerie feeling of being watched.

“What is that,” Kageyama says, a whisper.

Hinata looks up from the general’s horns to look at Kageyama and follow his gaze to somewhere overhead. Then he sees it. It’s a faint light, bluish-whiteish-silverish. It looks like a glowing  sphere—no, not quite. It’s a halo, tiny and expanding in both width and diameter. The halo grows and grows, lighting up the dark sky with its brilliance. Hinata and Kenma had seen the halo before, but still had no idea what its purpose was. Gamma, the point, takes an uncertain step back.

And then it stops growing. It remains hovering over the crown of the general’s head, casting glittering light across the wet surface of the horns. There’s no movement between either of the parties for a long moment, and then the general lifts his head, breaking the water at an alarming rate.

 **Fall back!** Bokuto calls. **He’s creating some huge waves!**

They’re forced back into the bay, away from the water displacement as the general’s eyes, bright blue and slitted, break the surface, his head sending water crashing in and around his body. The waves radiate out from his body, knocking into the Jaegers and forcing them to brace themselves against the rough water. His muzzle, the size of a baseball stadium or four, clears the surface, and he gives his head a shake, sending more seawater flying.

 **We should shoot him,** Yamaguchi blurts. **It’s just his head, if we take out his head—**

 **It won’t work,** Kuroo says. **Look at the plating on his neck and around his face—he’s meant to be a battering ram with the sweep of his neck over a city.**

The worst part is, Kuroo isn’t even wrong. There were usually some weak spots in the kaiju’s face or underbelly, but the general had compensated for that with massive body armor. The underside of his neck is overlaid plates of thick, shell-like skin that would probably take a nuke to crack open. He had nostrils and eyes and a mouth like the other kaiju, but it was all covered in that same body armor, like a helmet or an exoskeleton protecting his potential weaknesses.

And given his size and the strength of his long, elegant neck, Hinata could see him simply lying across the city of Sendai to destroy it in a heartbeat. A single sweep of his head could topple skyscrapers. One headbutt into a mountain, and it would crumble. He was not a kaiju—he was a one-kaiju army.

He continues to stand up to his full height, spiked spine rising above the surface along with his flank and the outside of his eight legs. Water poured from his body like miniature waterfalls or a particularly heavy rain storm. As he stood from where he had been crouched, his crown breaks the cloud cover so that the pilots can’t even see the crown of horns or the halo or the  piercing blue eyes.

 **The holes, though…** Akaashi says.

That _was_ curious. Hinata had seen it in the hivemind, but actually _seeing_ it was another thing altogether. They weren’t completely visible yet—mostly hidden under the water—but some of them were massive enough for Omega to crawl through comfortably. They appeared to be gathered along the length of the general’s body and along his legs. Looking at them made Hinata feel slightly uncomfortable. There was no sign of the fleshy tentacles coming from those holes that Hinata had seen. Definitely weapons, then.

 **What’s with the bulges on his neck?** Bokuto asks. **You know, those cut-looking things. He didn’t get scratched up, did he?**

 **That would be too lucky,** Kenma says, wary.

“They look almost like…” Kageyama starts.

The cracked bulges covering the general’s hide from his plated underbelly to the spikes crisscrossing his neck and back split open in an instant, revealing thousands of bright blue eyes. They ranged from the size of a car to the size of a small house. All slitted. All moving back and forth, back and forth, scanning the launch bay and surrounding areas. A few fix straight on the Jaegers.

 _…Eyes_ , Kageyama says quietly over the Drift.

 **Right. The eyes,** Kuroo sighs over the com.

 **So much for finding a blind spot,** Tsukishima says. **I was hoping he would have at least _one_.**

Other than the eyes darting and unnerving the Jaeger pilots, the general doesn’t move. He stands still as if carved from stone, he water trails running from his body slowing to just a trickle. There’s still no sign of the tentacles. And unlike the kaiju before him, he doesn’t drive towards the city, battling Jaegers as he aims for a target. The thousand eyes don’t even spare the land more than a passing glance.

 **This is…unexpected,** Kuroo says. **Why isn’t he attacking?**

Marshal Ukai’s voice breaks over the com. **What’s going on down there? Report.**

 **He’s not doing a damn thing, sir,** Bokuto says. **He’s just standing there. Doesn’t seem to care about the city and go into a frenzy like the others.**

“He’s smarter than they are,” Hinata says. “Something is wrong.”

 **What are your orders?** Bokuto asks.

 **Strike, launch a few missiles into him,** Ukai orders. **Aim for the spines, the skin around those holes, and the underbelly plating, and the eyes, in that order. We know from experience that hitting the eyes will probably provoke attack, so I want all of you ready to jump into action. It’s best if we see what damage we can do off the bat.**

 **Roger,** Tsukishima and Yamaguchi say in unison.

They aim their missile launchers at the general and fire off one of their higher payload missiles at his spines. The missile sails into the general’s back with no interference on his part to stop it. The missile blows up a third of the way up one of the longer spines. It cracks like thunder across the bay, and then the tip of the spine falls off, crashing into the water. It’s a small victory, but the pilots cheer.

 **He’s not invincible,** Yamaguchi says, relieved. **That was a clean hit, Marshal. Took out part of his spine.**

 **Good,** Ukai says. **Now for the side.**

They re-aim, taking greater care to try to hit in-between the holes along the general’s body. The second missile hits without any trouble again. This time, it’s clear it’s made a deeper impact, judging from the sound of the collision.

 **Yep, he’s bleeding alright,** Yamaguchi says. **That part’s a weakness for sure.**

They take aim at one of the underbelly plates and, predictably, nothing happens. Those plates were meant to keep the kaiju alive against pretty much anything aside from possibly an atomic bomb. But knowing the Precursors, they had thought of a way around that. They could assume no advantages.

And then finally, the darting eyes.

 **Get ready,** Tsukishima warns. The missile careens directly into one of the biggest eyes on the side of the general’s neck. It decimates the eye, leaving it ruined and half-closed, unseeing. But the general still doesn’t move. The eyes keep up their nonstop darting.

 **The fuck? Is he dead or something?** Noya’s voice reaches them across the com. **What kind of a survival response is that?**

 **Maybe passing through the Breach damaged him in some way?** Yamaguchi suggests hopefully.

 **Engage him, Omega,** Ukai says. **See if your approach can get a response out of him. But if he attacks, fall back immediately so we can do a threat assessment.**

“Roger that,” Hinata says. He meets Kageyama’s eyes.

Kageyama nods. _Let’s go._

They sweep through the water slowly, prepared to turn their Jaeger around at any movement. The general does not acknowledge their approach aside from one blue eye following their gradual movement through the water.

“He sees us…” Kageyama says over the com. He lets it go and glances at Hinata.

 _Something’s wrong,_ he says. _This feels bad._

The kaiju’s underbelly is elevated four or so Jaeger-heights above them. It blocks out any light breaking through the clouds. His legs are thick columns the diameter of the Shatterdome. The closer they get, the more Hinata is coming to realize a gut-wrenching fact.

 _We’re going to have to climb him,_ Hinata says.

 _I don’t want to,_ Kageyama admits, just a whisper of his mind to Hinata’s.

Hinata presses the com. “Sir, we’re gonna—we can’t attack him from this low. We have to climb him.”

“Shouyou,” Kageyama says. “We can’t do this.”

 **Do what you have to,** Ukai says.

Hinata lets go of the com. “We don’t have a choice,” he says.

“It feels like before,” Kageyama says. “Like when Daichi-san died, and when that kaiju attacked you. It’s _wrong_ , something is off. If we climb him, we’ll be completely exposed. We have no way to defend ourselves.”

“What do you suggest, then?” Hinata snaps. “Pelt missiles into him until we run out? Or turn tail and leave, hope he doesn’t destroy the world?” Hinata gestures angrily at the kaiju’s silhouette. “We see the same thing, right? That _monster_ could wipe out the human race in a few weeks, that is if we don’t destroy it ourselves by trying to bomb him off the face of the earth!”

“Can’t you feel it?” Kageyama asks. “Tyrant Omega is uneasy.”

“He can’t be uneasy; he’s a fucking machine,” Hinata snaps, but he feels for Omega anyway. And jerks in surprise. Omega gives off the feeling of a tiger pacing in a cage, eyes fixed on an equally fierce tiger in front of him. Omega _was_ uneasy. The hair on the back of Hinata’s neck stands up again.

“We don’t have a choice,” he says quietly. Then adds, “Omega is a _machine_ ,” like he wasn’t so sure of it himself.

With the upgrades to their Jaeger, guns and knives and plasma weapons had been added to each Jaeger’s arsenal, as much as their Marks could carry. Omega was carrying knives at his feet, at his elbows, at his shoulders, and at his wrists—mostly as a defense mechanism, but useful in this case to climb a kaiju.

The tops of the kaiju’s feet are covered by water, but it’s easy enough to wade onto them, like uneven islands in the middle of the ocean. Omega makes his way to the second set of legs on the kaiju. They unsheathe their knives and stick them into the weaker leg skin. Hinata and Kageyama tense, but like with the missiles, the general makes no move to swat at them. That one eye remains fixed on them.

Carefully, they pick their way up the leg of the kaiju, taking breaks at the cavernous holes or ducking around them. They stop at a particularly large hole, wet and scaly like the rest of the kaiju’s body. It leads farther back into the leg and curious, Hinata and Kageyama peer down the tunnel.

 **What is it?** Noya asks. Anxious as always for more data on the kaiju.

Hinata and Kageyama turn on Omega’s floodlights. Hinata lets out a frightened yip.

“It’s…it’s…” Kageyama can’t hide the revulsion in his voice. “I don’t know _what_ it is.”

The tunnel isn’t especially long, but it leads to a pulsating, veiny wall of soft flesh, almost like human skin. _Something_ moves under the skin, snaking along the inside of the wall and pressing against it. The wall flops forward to accommodate the _something_ swimming under the surface.

“I’m going to throw up,” Hinata rasps. “ _What is it?_ ”

“More importantly, do all these holes connect to that thing?” Kageyama wonders aloud.

They leave the tunnel, climbing up the general until they reach an equally large hole. Like before, the throbbing wall of wet flesh greets them.

 **Shoot it,** Ukai suggests. **It could be a weakness.**

“With all due respect,” Hinata says, “there’s no way in hell we’re going to provoke that. I have no doubt it’ll give under fire or blades, but there’s something moving underneath it and I don’t want to know what it is.”

 **If it’s a weakness, we need to exploit it,** Akaashi says.

“Well then, be my guest and poke at it,” Hinata snaps. “I’m telling you, we should leave it alone.”

 **Climb to the top of the kaiju,** Ukai says. **Once you’re standing on top of him, see if you can fire into one of the holes to provoke it. Hide amongst the spines on his back—they should be big enough to shield you. If nothing happens, examine the damage that you caused.**

“Very well,” Hinata says.

 _The tentacles…_ Kageyama says.

 _I know,_ Hinata returns. _I think that’s what’s moving underneath the skin, too. I don’t really fancy puncturing a hole in the skin and making it easier for them to escape. But orders are orders._

They climb to the top of the kaiju, dizzyingly high in the air. A fall from this height would probably damage their Jaeger, even given his shock absorption. Machines just weren’t meant to be tossed at the ground. Hinata and Kageyama position Omega behind one of the fan-like spines on the general’s back.

“The eye is still watching us,” Kageyama growls. “I know we’re hidden from view, but it’s watching for us.”

“Want to ask Strike to shoot it?” Hinata asks.

“He has about 998 other eyes that he can fix on us at any time,” Kageyama grumbles. “I don’t see a point.”

Hinata hums in agreement, taking aim at the selected hole with their shoulder cannons. “I’m going to use a smaller guided missile,” he says. “Hopefully it won’t make our friend here too upset.”

“Gotcha,” Kageyama says.

“You ready?” Hinata asks.

“No,” Kageyama says, sighing. “But what are we waiting for?”

Hinata fires the missile.

It blasts from Omega’s cannon, arcing beautifully and dive bombing one of the kaiju’s many open cavities. There’s the sickly sound of…well, of a bomb going off inside a living thing. Kaiju chunks fly out of the hole, accompanied by a splash of blue blood. They brace Omega, digging their knives into the fan spine, but as before, the general doesn’t move.

“What the _fuck_ ,” Hinata says. “He’s dead. He’s gotta be braindead or some shit, _why won’t he fight back_?”

“Let’s just check it out,” Kageyama says. Across the com, the other Jaeger teams are grumbling, getting reckless at the lack of action.

They release their knives and move around the spine. They walk over to the cavity and turn on their floodlights to give them visibility down the tunnel just as a fleshy tentacle bursts from the hole and slams against Omega, hurling them off of the general’s back.

Hinata and Kageyama don’t have time to react, to scream, to make any noise but a pained choking sound as their necks are snapped back at the force behind the punch of the muscular tentacle. They’re in a free-fall long enough for the pilots’ heads to clear and realize that they were _wrong,_ it was all a _trap,_ they had to _warn the others_ —

They hit the water as hard as they would hit concrete. It snaps their necks the other way, smashing their brains against their skulls and prompting a pounding headache and dizziness. There’s no time to be confused.

The sensors in Omega go wild, flashing red and alarms blaring in their ears. Hinata and Kageyama gasp in unison, feeling what Omega feels as a crushing pressure slams in on the chest cavity, forcing Omega underwater suddenly and smashing them against the ocean floor.

“ _God dammit!_ ” Hinata howls, activating their underwater mode, closing the vents that were letting water rush into Omega’s internal structure. The metal groans under the weight of that impossible force, choking the air from Hinata’s lungs, but he _can’t fucking see a thing_ —

“ _Help us!_ ” Kageyama roars. “Mayday, mayday! We are underwater and taking on damage fast! We need assistance _immediately_ or Omega’s hull will be breached—” Another force rocks them, shaking loose the pressure and allowing Hinata and Kageyama to force Omega to his feet with twin roars.

When they break the surface, they see that all hell has broken loose.

Gamma is at their side, plasma claws tearing at a wound in the side of the general’s left foot and leg that could only have been caused by one of Strike’s heaviest rounds. Gamma looks like it’ll be doing some crippling damage, given that the general seems to be unsteady putting weight on that foot. But he has seven other feet, and another tentacle swings down, throwing Gamma a couple hundred yards back. Several of its brethren join the original appendage, swiping and punching at Gamma.

“Gamma!” Kageyama hollers. “We’re coming for you; hold on!”

 **NO!** Bokuto roars over the com. **Remember the plan! Get back on that fucker and tear it the fuck apart!** Gamma’s claws shred the tentacles like butter, but for every one they take down, two are there to take its place.

 **Saeko!** Akaashi yells. **Weakness assessment, _now_!**

 **No good,** Saeko says, mildly panicked. **Those tentacles can regenerate. You’ll slow them down cutting them at the source, but they’ll still grow back!**

 **Scrapper, Omega!** Bokuto calls. **You heard the lady, get to chopping those limbs off! And take out those fucking eyes while you’re at it!**

Hinata and Kageyama don’t even call out an acknowledgment. They run for another leg, dodging flying tentacles when they can and weathering hits when they can’t. The eyes are racing over the scene of the battle with new fervor and from each hole along the general’s body, the tentacles burst in and out, swiping at the Jaegers and then retracting before the Jaegers can return an attack. He’s not stationary anymore either—he shifts his legs, attempting to knock the Jaegers down long enough to crush them, as he did with Omega.

They run and jump, sinking their knives into the leg and climbing, digging deeper as the leg moves, even shakes at them, as if to shake them off and into the water. A tentacle appears from one of the holes and starts to lash itself against Omega’s back. Kageyama releases one knife and fires at the tentacle with his plasma cannon, blowing it to pieces. They’re able to climb a few more yards until they’re attacked again.

Farther along the kaiju’s body, Scrapper has climbed to the top of his back, naturally built for four-legged movements unlike the rest of the Jaegers. Kuroo and Kenma look to be doing alright—they can dodge about half the hits and blast down the holes with a plasma cannon attached to their tail. Their strategy appears to be taking hits as long as they protect the cannon.

Down in the bay, Gold Strike is firing round after heavy round into the kaiju’s eyes and wherever assistance was needed with the other three Jaegers. The general, once he started moving however, didn’t _stop_ moving. He shuffles in place, sweeps low with his neck in an attempt to drive his crown of horns against the Jaegers. Gamma and Strike have to dodge his horns, but it’s mostly utilized as a distraction so that he can focus his attack on the other two while their assistance is otherwise occupied.

 _He’s smart,_ Hinata realizes. _He’s strategizing against us, as we are strategizing against him._

“Shouyou! Stay with me!” Kageyama calls, firing at yet another tentacle.

“Right,” Hinata says.

They climb to the top of the kaiju in three times the time it took them the first time. They manage to get over his haunch just as Scrapper is smashed against the kaiju’s back spines with a force of three tentacles crushing him against it. The metal makes a loud crunch and the cannon bounces against the spine dangerously. Scrapper manages to shred the tentacles before they can smash the plasma cannon, but they’re unbalanced and start to tumble off the kaiju’s sloped back—a death sentence.

“Kenma!” Hinata howls. There’s nothing they can do as Scrapper skids backwards, digging his claw-like fingers into the skin to keep from tumbling off the edge. More appendages appear, shoving at Scrapper, trying to force him to fall. Scrapper blasts at them, but they’re quick enough to weave around most of the blasts. Scrapper is shoved back inch after precious inch.

“We have to do something!” Hinata cries, turning to Kageyama.

“We can’t,” Kageyama says. “We have to focus on taking out—”

“Taking out this kaiju?” Hinata finishes for him. “Are you serious? We’re barely clinging to life here!”

“Maybe we can do both,” Kageyama says, eyes widening.

He slips into Drift-speak to get his racing thoughts out faster. _The holes…those are the source. If we focus our attack on those, maybe we can divert his attention. Not just cutting off—destroying. Get in one and wreck it from the outside in._

 _Let’s do it_ , Hinata agrees.

They pick the largest cavity near them and dive in. As predicted, a tentacle emerges from the fleshy skin wall, but Hinata and Kageyama blast through it. They blast through the tentacle, through the wall, and into the soft inside of the kaiju. Kageyama empties his clip, then Hinata empties his, and they reload and continue.

It works—maybe. There’s a deep rumbling through the body of the general, something very loud and unpleasant.

 _Pain,_ Hinata realizes. _We’re finally hurting him._

 _Quick,_ Kageyama says. _Draw your sword. We’ll do just as much damage with plasma-charged weapons._

Hinata complies. They slice at every bit of flesh they lay eyes on until they’re surrounded by pinkish-greenish-bluish pulp at their feet, sinking deeper and deeper into the kaiju’s body, like a thorn digging deep under his skin. The rumbling gets louder and louder until it reaches an actual snarl of pain, reverberating inside the body cavity and down the tunnel from the outside.

“We’re doing it,” Hinata says, smiling. “We’re really making progress!”

 _Issss that sssso_.

It’s in Hinata’s head.

 _He’s_ in Hinata’s head.

Hinata feels the general’s mind. He feels the massive expanse of his consciousness, feels his intelligence, feels his body and pain, as if it were his own. Feels another mind, bright like a candle, just as tiny and frightened as his. _Kenma_.

 _Omega,_ Hinata begs. _Omega, Tobio, help._

He can feel the general in his brain, can feel his talons reaching around the edges of the hole in his mind, connecting the hivemind with Hinata’s pitiful human mind and building a bridge. They are, Hinata realizes, Drifting. Him, Kenma, and the massive kaiju they were trying to destroy.

 _Goodbye_.

Hinata sees something like a halo, a burst of light, and then every inch of his body is on fire. He screams, clutching at his head through the helmet, but there’s nothing he can do to alleviate the pressure and the pain crushing in on his skull and melting his brain, turning him from human being into a bright speck of pure agony.

Help help help help help help help help help help

_Help help help help help help help help help help_

**_Help help help help help help help help help help—_ **

The light flickers in his mind, like a candle being blown out, or a door closing on piercing brightness. It makes the pain bearable, makes the ringing stop in Hinata’s ears. He can open his eyes. He can see, he can hear.

“ _Shouyou—!_ ”

**Hinata are you—**

**Not again, no not again…**

**Hinata, Kenma, can you hear us?**

Hinata opens his eyes and looks to Kageyama, white as a sheet. Kageyama is shaking. “Tobio—” Hinata rasps.

“You’re bleeding again,” Kageyama whispers.

Hinata knows he is. He can feel it dripping down his nose and across his lips. He can feel it warm against his ears and running down his jaw. The pain is still there. The light is still there. But it’s minimal.

“What happened?” Kageyama asks.

 **Our minds were attacked,** Kenma says shakily. **The general—he can use our connection to the hivemind—I don’t know why it stopped—**

_Why._

The voice in Hinata’s head is not human, but a whisper of something alien in the corner of his mind. And it is very, very angry.

In front of them, the broken, pulpy skin mass ripples, shoves at the broken remains where they had been digging in. Hinata spots in, eyes widening. “Tobio, look out!”

Three tentacles at once smash into them, forcing them out of the hole but not letting go. They wrap around Omega’s limbs and hold onto him, smashing him along the entire line of the spines on the general’s back. The warning bells go off again, alerting Hinata and Kageyama to multiple emergencies, loss of functionality, holes punched in Omega’s mainframe—

There’s nothing they can do. Hinata and Kageyama are shaken and bumped along the spines until the general releases them, flinging them into the water again and moving towards them with purpose. Hinata and Kageyama force Omega to his feet, both bleeding from their heads and bruised all over. Hinata feels Kageyama’s hiss as they stand—he’s cracked a rib.

They draw their plasma swords again, ready and wary, but there’s nothing they can do when the general could crush them under his feet. A series of rounds explode against his legs, throwing him off balance, but he doesn’t slow. Gamma is there in a heartbeat, tearing at the original wound just like before and ripping off chunks of skin and muscle until she reaches bone, shattering it with the weight of her blows. The general stumbles.

 _Out of the way_.

Hinata hears it, but he’s too slow to warn Bokuto and Akaashi. Kenma gets out a single panicked shout, but the tentacles form a fist, smashing against Gamma and tossing her back—straight into the grip of one of the general’s great paws. The paw closes around Gamma’s ragdoll body, crushing her arms and legs, rupturing the chest cavity, and the top two claws—they dig right into—right into the Conn-Pod—

“ _Keiji-san!_ ” Kageyama screams.

“ _Koutarou!_ ” Kuroo screams with him.

A howl of pain—Bokuto's voice—echoes across the com. Akaashi’s cries aren’t as loud, but they’re there. “Shoot him!” Akaashi begs. “We’re _dying_!”

Then Scrapper is running, full out running across the general’s back. He leaps when he reaches the shoulder of the general’s first leg and extends all his claws, slamming against the exposed eyes along the general’s neck and dragging his meter-long claws along the delicate pupils and eyelids as he slides down the kaiju’s neck.

The general howls in pain, releasing Gamma in favor of scratching at Scrapper and focusing all of the tentacles onto throwing Scrapper off his body. Kuroo and Kenma fall, but not without dealing massive damage to the kaiju. They rush underneath the general’s body—Hinata’s heart stops—but instead of a suicide move, it’s actually a clever one. All the general can do is shuffle in place and try to stomp on them since he can’t see beneath his body.

 **Blind spot,** Kuroo says proudly.

 **Bokuto, Akaashi, damage report!** Saeko cries over the com.

 **We’re done,** Akaashi wheezes. **Bokuto's gone.**

Hinata freezes. Kageyama freezes. For a moment the entire battle seems to freeze, the general’s movements slowing and all the Jaegers’ movements coming to a standstill.

 **Bokuto is…gone?** Kuroo asks, voice soft.

 **Passed out, yes,** Akaashi says. **He has…he has a scrap of metal piercing the corner of his eye, across his face. Happened when the Conn-Pod was punctured. Barely missed going through his head.**

 **His life signs are strong,** Saeko says, exhaling shakily. **The rest?**

 **My back has been gutted,** Akaashi says. **All the skin shredded off of it. My drivesuit’s done. So is Gamma. She can’t move, even if I could pilot her on my own. I’m driving dead stick here.**

 **Get the general away from them,** Saeko orders. **Quick, before he remembers to finish them off.**

Scrapper dashes out in front of the general, giving him something to chase. Still stinging from his assault, the general follows Scrapper’s lead and forgets Gamma completely. Waves splash against Gamma’s carcass and she sinks a little deeper into the water.

 **We need evac,** Akaashi says stonily. **Gamma is taking on water. She won’t last much longer.**

 **We’ll try our best,** Saeko says, shouting to some people in Mission Control as she clicks out of the com.

And then the chase is on. Scrapper can’t outrun the general—not by a long shot. He’s a fast Jaeger, but the general covers more ground with a single step than they do sprinting, and his tentacles are the fastest things on the field.

“Don’t separate from us, Scrapper!” Hinata calls. “Circle back! We can’t help you out there!”

Scrapper does as told, turning on a dime and barely avoiding the general’s flying appendages. He heads back towards Omega, Strike still keeping his distance. Strike provides cover fire as Scrapper approaches them. Omega prepares to launch themselves at the general to distract him.

 **Hinata— _Hinata_ ,** Tsukishima says. Hinata snaps his head up. **There’s—look out—**

Hinata sees. He sees the swinging of the general’s neck. He sees the crown of horns. There’s no way to outrun or dodge the blow. Scrapper, too, skids to a stop. They both brace for impact.

The edge of the horns catches Omega, throwing him across the bay but not damaging him much. Scrapper gets the worst of it, horns piercing through one leg and his tail, damaging the circuitry and rendering the plasma cannon useless. It flickers out one last time before going dark. Scrapper lands beside Omega. Kuroo and Kenma try to stand but struggle, a mirror of the general’s front paw.

And it is that very same paw that the general swings towards them, intending to crush them both beneath the dead weight.

 **We’re coming,** Yamaguchi says.

Gold Strike is the fastest of the Jaegers. When he cranks into gear, he can outpace them all, even Scrapper in full sprint mode.

“What are they going to—” Hinata says.

“They’re going to ram him,” Kageyama says through gritted teeth. “They’re going to use their momentum as a battering ram and keep him from crushing us.”

“But they’ll—”

“Yes,” Kageyama says. “They’re going to sacrifice their own functionality to save our lives.”

“Fucking morons!” Hinata snarls. “You can still fight! Leave us!”

 **No,** Tsukishima says.

“Tsukishima—”

 **You’re not dying while we can still save you,** Tsukishima says, just as the kaiju’s spiked tail crashes into Gold Strike.

Gold Strike’s speed rams him onto the spikes, impaling him on the tail and giving the general the chance to thrash Tsukishima and Yamaguchi against the ocean repeatedly. Their cannons and missile launchers and sniper rifle twist and snap off of Gold Strike before he finally comes loose, the Conn-Pod splits open.

 **Tadashi—** Tsukishima’s voice breaks off. Hinata can’t hear Yamaguchi. He adjusts the HUD to zoom in on Gold Strike’s wreckage and sucks in a sharp breath.

Yamaguchi dangles by a thread, held above the water and metal wreck only by Tsukishima’s outstretched hand, clasped around his wrist.

 **K-K-Kei,** Yamaguchi says, his voice faint. His legs wave like a flag above the crashing waves.

 **I’ve got you,** Tsukishima says. **I’ve got you.**

“Tsukishima,” Hinata says calmly. “There is a piece of loose metal over your right shoulder. If it comes down on you, you will lose your arm.”

 **I’m not letting go of Tadashi,** Tsukishima snarls. **Tadashi—Tadashi, look at me. I need you to reach for that ledge there. I can’t hold you forever.**

 **The general is coming around again,** Kenma says.

 **He can wait until my _boyfriend_ is _safe_ ,** Tsukishima says. **Reach, Tadashi. I’m holding this thing back but I need both arms to do it if I’m going to keep my right arm.**

 **I’m t-trying,** Yamaguchi says. His fingers scrabble at the slippery metal surface, but it holds his weight. One more swing of his arm and he finds a handhold. **I’ve got it.**

 **I’m going to let go of you,** Tsukishima says. The metal behind him creaks and he winces. Yamaguchi whimpers.

“Tsukishima,” Hinata says again. “You are both going to die.”

 **He’s coming,** Kuroo says.

 ** _Shut up!_** Tsukishima roars. **Yamaguchi, now!**

Tsukishima lets go of the loose metal to swing Yamaguchi towards the ledge, Yamaguchi fixing both his hands solidly on the ledge. He scrabbles upwards, hauling his shoulders over the edge. The metal comes swinging down, and cleanly cuts off Tsukishima’s right arm.

Tsukishima throws himself back, howling in pain. He clutches the stump of his arm, bleeding through his drivesuit profusely. Hinata can hear him panting over the com. Yamaguchi manages to hauls himself onto the ledge, calling out to Tsukishima weakly.

“Kei!” Hinata calls. “There’s an exposed engine behind you, from Gold Strike’s arm. It’s hot, you might be able to—”

 **Shut…the fuck…up…** Tsukishima snarls, slamming his head back and shoving his ruined arm backwards, against the still burning metal. Another howl, this one more desperate and pained than the first, resonates over the com.

Hinata doesn’t have any time to think about it, though. Omega is slammed by Scrapper’s body as the Jaeger takes a hit for them. Hinata thinks he hears Saeko shout something over the sound of scraping metal, but he can’t focus on that. All he and Kageyama can focus on is protecting the fallen Jaegers. They stand up and whirl around to fight.

And look right into the eyes of the general, leaning down to their eye-level.

Beneath the ruined paw is Scrapper Nine—not crushed, but completely unable to move, all of their weapons shot and leg engines failing. Behind the general—Gamma Raptor. Behind Omega—Gold Strike. Tyrant Omega is the last Jaeger standing.

_Why._

Hinata feels the pain in his head again, pounding and making itself known, but unable to pierce him like it did before. For the first time, Hinata notices how bright the kaiju’s halo shines. There’s something about that halo, something alien that lets him into Hinata and Kenma’s minds. But for some reason, it is is not strong enough to destroy them from the inside out.

_Why do you fight with them._

Hinata’s mind goes blank. “Oh,” he says softly.

Omega.

Of course. Omega had protected Kageyama. Omega listened to them, helped them fight with almost animal-like instincts. Only Omega could shield Hinata and Kenma from the general’s attack as best he could. The consciousness in the back of Hinata and Kageyama’s mind is swirling, agitated, fighting.

 _It’s a synthetic kaiju brain_ , Noya had said.

 _How synthetic?_ Hinata wants to ask. _How much of this is synthetic and how much of it is a perfect replica of a kaiju’s mind, enough to convince a real, living kaiju that it is one of his kind?_

“He fights with us,” Hinata says, smiling fiercely. “And there’s nothing you can do to change that.”

_Die with them, then._

The general opens his jaws. They’re wide enough to swallow a building—wide enough to swallow a Jaeger. Hinata and Kageyama force Omega back, away from the kaiju’s maw, but he drags it along the ocean floor, scooping up water and eventually, them.

They can’t move back fast enough. He’s going to eat them alive.

 **Incoming!** Koushi calls out as a fifth Jaeger slams into the side of the general’s head, rocket-powered fist pounding again and again into the kaiju’s massive eye.

 **Get out of here, Omega!** Ukai orders over the com. **Circle around! Cover us!**

Stunned, Hinata and Kageyama push Omega back, away from the general and fire into his still parted jaws, hitting soft gums and teeth.

“Marshal Ukai and…Suga-san?” Hinata chokes out. “What—what Jaeger are they piloting?”

Kageyama squints at it, and then his eyes widen. “No…but—but they don’t have the calibration code for—” He cuts himself off, eyes getting impossibly wider.

“Who is it?” Hinata demands.

“Beta Monarch,” Kageyama says. “The third sister in the trio with Apocalypto Alpha and Gamma Raptor—the punching specialist. She was in storage but Ukai—Ukai got her calibration key code somehow—”

“His old co-pilot,” Hinata says. “Momoe Maria, at Nishiura.”

Beta Monarch is painted red as blood and brilliant on the field. Ukai and Koushi are two of the most experienced pilots, and together, they form a kicking, punching, twisting tornado of pain for the general. They evade the slamming of his paws and head. They dodge tentacles, having the benefit of witnessing the fight before they entered the fray. They are fresh and fully-loaded with the heavy rounds Strike had run out of. Each of their shots land hard in an eye or a tentacle hole, enraging the general and distracting him from the other Jaegers.

Omega joins her in climbing the kaiju once more, knowing to fire into the holes and put the general in great pain. The tentacle attacks slow as Beta and Omega take opposite sides of his body and blow him to a pulp. His tail lashes angrily, but when he tries to strike at them with it, he only manages to drive his spikes into his own body, the two active Jaegers much faster than him and revitalized by Beta’s appearance.

 **Hinata, Kageyama,** Koushi calls. **You guys ready for the big plan?**

“And finally beat his ass? You know it Suga-san,” Kageyama says, grinning fiercely.

 **We need to get inside,** Ukai says. **If we can get inside his body, we can wreak havoc and hopefully find his heart. I realized it as soon as you two were able to slice around in one of the holes. We’ll each take a side—**

The general flicks his head back and skewers Beta Monarch through the chest with his horns. In a swift movement, he snaps his head down, releasing Beta and throwing her high into the air. The general snaps his head back up, opens his jaws wide, and claps them around Beta Monarch’s form as she falls, crushing her instantly.

 

 


	14. where no one goes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, guys. this is it. i would just like to take a moment to thank everyone who has been involved with this mega project. thank you to my betas and proofreaders, who dealt with my inability to keep to one verb tense and constant misspellings. thank you to my sister and qp's who have listened to me talk their ear off about this au and whine and complain constantly. thank you to the fan creators who took time out of their lives to draw, write, sing, or compile music for my fic. i am in awe of you. and thank you to YOU, my readers, for every kudos, for every comment, for every nice thing you've ever said about this fic on twitter or tumblr or wherever. i appreciate every single one of you.
> 
> but for me, there is a storm has been the single most important journey of my writing career. if you go back and read the first chapter, through each consecutive chapter, you can see how my writing has grown and changed, stretching its wings and learning to fly. i am so grateful for the opportunity to share my test-fic (this was a test fic!) with the haikyuu fandom. i'm now confident in my ability to finish a long project, and i hope to share more stories about our favorite volleyball players again.
> 
> and now, the main event.

 

“Come back to bed,” Takeda says, holding a hand out. “You’ll need your rest for tomorrow.”

Ukai turns away from the window, back to Takeda. He’s wearing a baggy t-shirt (Ukai’s) and plaid boxers. His feet are bare and dangle off the edge of the bed. With the shirt slipping down off his shoulder, Takeda looks much younger than his thirty-six years. He’s the type of gentle and beautiful that kept men home from war, that spoke of a happy family to be had between them.

If Ukai had met him sooner, he thinks things would have been very different.

He moves closer to Takeda, toe-to-toe. He takes Takeda’s extended hand. Takeda’s hands are soft and small like a woman’s. To an untrained eye, they might look weak, but Ukai knows better. He knows these hands have kept the Jaeger Program afloat and saved their base from falling into chaos. Takeda unified—he smoothed things over. Just having him in the room brought a sense of calm, or maybe that was just Ukai, eased by having his partner at his side.

He lifts Takeda’s hand to press it against his cheek. Takeda smiles. “You’re all prickly,” he says. “Did you forget to shave again?”

“Of course not,” Ukai says, lying through his teeth.

“Fibber,” Takeda says, laughing lightly and socking Ukai in the side with his free hand. “Honestly, who do you think I am? Your mother? I have to make sure you eat, make sure you sleep, make sure you shower, make sure you relax—”

“Alright, alright,” Ukai says, laughing as well. “You’ve made your point. You’re a better lover to me than I am to you.”

“Don’t feel too bad about it,” Takeda says, cupping his face. “I only use you for your good looks.”

“Oh, that is it,” Ukai says solemnly. “Now you’re gonna get it.”

He climbs onto the bed after Takeda, who wisely scrambles away, squealing. Ukai’s practiced hands find his sides anyway, tickling him until Takeda is wheezing and writhing in submission.

“Mercy!” he cries out. “Have mercy on this poor old man!”

“Old?” Ukai snorts. “You don’t look any older than the day I met you.”

“Twenty-nine?” Takeda says, raising an eyebrow. “Most people don’t look back fondly on twenty-nine. That’s one year away from truly middle-aged.”

“And you?” Ukai asks. “What do you think about twenty-nine?”

Takeda leans forward, presses his mouth to Ukai’s. He holds the kiss for a long, meaningful moment. Ukai’s hand goes to his mess of curls without thinking, trailing through Takeda’s hair when he pulls back, smiling and pink in the cheeks.

“Well,” Takeda says. “My twenty-nine was pretty fortunate, if I do say so myself.”

Ukai is painfully, painfully aware that thirty-six is not that old. Takeda had time for a family still. He had time for children and a dog and his own house in the mountains, away from the sad song of the ocean. Takeda had a _future_. He would grow old tending to his garden and fawning over his grandchildren until he passed away peacefully in his sleep. Ukai would make sure of it.

Still leaning over Takeda, Ukai asks, “What do you want to do, after the war?”

Takeda blinks. “That’s a rather sudden question,” he says. He taps his chin. “Well…I always wanted to be a teacher. I was going to university to become one, actually, when the kaiju showed up. Changed the course of my life pretty quickly.” He smiles, distant and fond. “I’ve always loved children.”

 _Point to Takeda having a family._ “Science teacher?” Ukai asks.

“God, no,” Takeda says. “I’ve had enough science to last me a lifetime. Japanese Literature, maybe. I love to read.”

“I’m well aware,” Ukai says dryly, gesturing to wealth of Takeda’s books that had somehow overflowed into his room. Takeda flushes.

“You tease me too much,” he says.

“Oh, and you don’t tease me at all I guess,” Ukai says, raising an eyebrow.

“I would _never_ ,” Takeda gasps, scandalized. “Ukai-kun, how could you insinuate something like that?”

“Right, right,” Ukai says fondly, flopping against the covers and wiggling back against Takeda. Takeda wraps himself around Ukai, stroking Ukai’s arm.

Takeda’s hands always find Ukai. He thinks that’s probably why he fell in love with Takeda in the first place. Takeda’s hands trace the shape of his bicep, down his forearm, across the back of his hand. His fingers dance over Ukai’s bare back and up his neck, brushing against him so delicately it leaves something like finger trails tingling across his skin. Ukai takes care to remember every gentle stroke.

“What about you?” Takeda asks.

“What about me?” Ukai says.

“What do you want to do after all of this is over?” Takeda asks, carding his fingers through Ukai’s hair.

“Oh, you know,” Ukai says. “My Gramps has been doing this for as long as there have been kaiju kicking. We’ll get a vacation, sure, but they’ll be back. Someone’s got to stay here and watch the coast. Family business and all.”

“A Marshal, through to your bones,” Takeda says. “How fitting. And noble of you!”

Ukai shrugs a shoulders and Takeda laughs lightly between his shoulder blades. “You’ll have to hire a new head scientist,” Takeda says.

“I guess I will,” Ukai agrees.

“I’ll get jealous,” Takeda says. “All alone in my classroom, while you’re saving the world. Who would take me seriously if I told them my heart belonged to a famous Jaeger pilot. That’s everyone’s dream.”

“But it’s your reality,” Ukai says, turning in Takeda’s arms. “My heart is yours. And I’ll be missing your notes on my files and your presence at my back and your hand delivering me coffee. Do you really think I could replace you so easily?”

Takeda smiles at him, then snorts. “That’s so cheesy, Keishin.”

Ukai rolls his eyes. “Please. I can see you eating it all up. You love cheesy romantic shit.”

“You’re right,” Takeda says. “You know me so well.” He tangles their legs, pulling Ukai closer to him. Takeda takes Ukai’s hand and rubs his thumb over it, eyes cast down.

“You despair,” Ukai says. He frowns.

Takeda shakes his head. “No, no—that’s not it,” he says. “I believe in our pilots. They’re strong. They’ve been through so much: grief, trauma, loss, joy, agony…if anyone can beat that kaiju, it’s our pilots.”

“Then…?” Ukai probes.

“You despair,” Takeda says. “I see it in your body language; in your facial expressions. When you strategize, there’s always an edge of desperation to your voice. Do you not believe in them, Keishin?”

“I do,” Ukai says, averting his eyes. “I just believe the kaiju is stronger.”

Takeda pulls Ukai’s hand to his lips and kisses it once, twice, five times. “Have heart,” Takeda says. “They will surprise you. They always do.”

“Yeah, well,” Ukai grumbles. “I wish they’d surprise me less with insubordination.”

“You keep them on a long leash.” Takeda grins.

“Don’t be smiling like that’s a good thing,” Ukai says. “That’s the reason we’re in trouble in the first place. If I had guided them better—been stricter with them—”

“Stop,” Takeda says, smile falling away. “You’ll get nowhere blaming yourself for what might have been. They’re headstrong—they would have found a way.”

Ukai looks away, blinks rapidly. “If they die,” he whispers. “I will never forgive myself.”

“Keishin…” Takeda says softly.

“Their mistakes are their mistakes, fine,” he says. “But they don’t deserve to die because of those mistakes. They’re still young, still green and stupid.”

“Alright,” Takeda says. “Alright, I’ll let you have that. But you know what you can do? You can help them, now that this is our reality, instead of moping about what could have been. Keep them alive, Keishin. Do whatever you must do to keep them alive.”

 _You don’t know what you’re saying_ , Ukai doesn’t say. _You don’t know this cross I carry_.

Ukai wants Takeda to say, _don’t sacrifice yourself for them_. He wants Takeda to say, _be selfish_. He wants Takeda to say, _stay here with me_. But Ukai knows. He knows that he can’t stay. To do so would be to endanger the world, all for the sake of his own happiness.

_The world, or a man._

Ukai is very, very tired.

“I’m sorry,” Takeda says. “You must have a lot weighing on your mind.”

Ukai barks a laugh. “You can say that again,” he sighs. He pulls Takeda’s hand to his forehead and taps it against himself gently. “I don’t want to think about this anymore,” he says.

“That can be arranged,” Takeda says.

Takeda kisses the pads of each of Ukai’s fingers, down their length, nosing at his palm. Then he kisses Ukai’s palm too, long warm kisses that spread from the center out in a circle. Takeda’s breath fogs up his glasses and tickles Ukai’s skin.

“Here, let me,” Ukai says, pulling Takeda’s glasses from his eyes. He looks a little more his age, like that. The crinkles at the corners of his eyes are more pronounced, the bags under his eyes visible. But then he smiles, and Ukai is twenty-six again, looking into the bright eyes of a man he’d just met and thinking that he’d never met anyone quite like Takeda Ittetsu.

Ukai leans in, kissing Takeda hard, like he needs him. (Because he does need him.)

His hands find the boniness of Takeda’s shoulder blades through the fabric of the nightshirt, and he pulls Takeda tight against him. _As long as I live, I will never let you go._ He nips at Takeda’s lips, never rough, but hungry for whatever last touches he could savor. _I wish I could make you happy._ His tongue presses against Takeda’s, making Takeda arch against him. Ukai knows that’s his favorite trick. _I’m sorry that I can’t stay like this forever._

“Stop despairing,” Takeda says, as if reading his mind. “I can feel it in the way you love me—you are saying goodbye. Love me like you mean it.”

So Ukai rolls on top of him, pressing Takeda warm and pliant against the mattress. Takeda blinks up at him, lids heavy. Ukai’s hair is loose, falling around his shoulders. Takeda takes in Ukai’s entire appearance, from hair to face to shoulders all the way down to his waist.

 _Not fair_ , Ukai wants to protest. _You’re saying goodbye, too._

He kisses Takeda again, slow and soft, and moves against him, chasing that distant look from his eyes.

When they curl together after the fact, Takeda draped comfortably over Ukai’s side and breathing deeply into the back of his neck, Ukai allows his mind to wander, just a little. He thinks a little of the near future, the hell that tomorrow would bring. He think a little of the far future, of Takeda in his classroom, the window open and a breeze blowing through. He thinks a little of the impossible future, of him and Takeda sitting together in rocking chairs, hands intertwined, watching the children run up and down the mountainside with the kind of energy they wished they could have. Or not—in their old age, they found peacefulness to be just as compelling as adventure.

 _But if there were **five** Jaegers,_ Kenma had said.

 

\-------------------------------------------

 

If there was one thing that should never be trifled with, it was hope. And that was the Precursors—the general’s—first real mistake.

To destroy hope, it had to be systematically dismantled or else wiped out in one blow. If there was one survivor, one person left standing, hope remained. The tides could turn. But if one could break their enemies down, piece by piece, knocking them down whenever they dared to stand up, then hope could be smothered, as Hinata and Kageyama’s hope had been smothered when literally facing the jaws of defeat.

But Beta Monarch embodied hope. She was a light in the darkness, a rope down a well, a ship to a lone survivor in a life raft. Like her sisters before her, like Apocalypto Alpha and Gamma Raptor, she was a beacon and a savior to Omega when he was weak and defeated. She returned what hope had been lost, as small a chance as it had been that the addition of one more Jaeger would make a difference. She had gotten to Omega, infected Omega, and she had given the three last fighters their sorely needed hope.

But it wasn’t just Beta herself that got through to the last three; it had to be her pilots, too. Marshal Ukai, a seasoned war veteran and the guide to every person on the base. He had been with Hinata and Kageyama every step of the way. They could trust his lead, would follow his mark to the ends of the earth with a loyalty that could only be forged through months and years of hard work together. The fact that their Marshal was entering the fray meant Omega had a point again, someone to lead him.

And then Koushi. Beautiful, shattered Koushi who was scared of the ocean and scared of the kaiju had gotten in that Jaeger. He had swallowed all his fear and his pain and the memory of a lost co-pilot, still so fresh a wound in his mind and heart, and he piloted. He would risk it all to save them. If Ukai and Takeda were the head of the beast known as the Miyagi base, then Koushi was the backbone, the thread of hope incarnate who carried the spirit of both Daichi and AA with him when he fought.

To destroy that with one blow was a mistake.

The general snaps Beta Monarch down his throat, crushing her between his teeth and jaws. He swallows her whole and looks to Omega, still on his back as if to say ‘look, you see? I have destroyed your last, flimsy shred of hope.’

But he didn’t.

**I’m still getting life signs from them,** Saeko says desperately. **Don’t give up just yet!**

“Don’t worry, Saeko-neesan,” Kageyama says. “I’d say right now, we are—”

“—mad _fucking calm_ ,” Hinata finishes. 

“You know what to do?” Kageyama asks.

“Do you even have to ask?” Hinata replies. 

“It’s a gamble,” Kageyama says.

“It’s always a gamble,” Hinata says, and closes his eyes.

He feels for the third presence in their Drift, the agitated mass of slow-moving almost-thought that was Omega. Omega greets him in that strange way he always did, shadowy wisps of touch reaching out to feather along Hinata’s consciousness, recognizing him as a friend. Hinata does not back down from the size and latent power of Omega’s synthetic mind.

_ Do you know who they are? _ Hinata asks. _Those men he swallowed just now._

Omega stirs but doesn’t respond.

_ They are my mentors, _ Hinata says. _They are very precious people to Kageyama and I. We don’t want them to die. After all they’ve done for us, we can’t just let them die._

_ We can beat him, _ Hinata thinks to Omega. _I know we can. Ukai-san and Suga-san showed us the way._ He reaches out to touch Omega’s consciousness, the terrifying gray-black shadow of uncertainty that swirled in the Drift. _Thank you for protecting us. You’ve done a wonderful job._

Hinata takes a breath. _But we can’t do this alone._

He immerses himself in the Drift, loses himself, chases the rabbit. He’s not going after his own memories, though, or Kageyama’s. He can feel the hivemind crawling at the edge of his mind, just under his skin. And he can feel Omega, strong and steady and a reliable presence as always, warm as coming home. _I’m sorry,_ Hinata thinks to Omega, _but right now I don’t need a Jaeger. I need a kaiju_.

With a hand buried in Omega and the other stretching out to pick at the scar in his mind, Hinata uses his mindspace as a bridge, linking Omega to the hivemind and the hivemind to Omega. 

Omega rears away from him—or tries to. Neither Omega nor Kageyama can escape from the hivemind once Hinata opens his scar, allowing the madness and alien pressure to flood both their consciousnesses. The hivemind responds to them immediately. Kageyama, of course, is marked as an intruder, to be disposed of as quickly as possible. But Omega…Omega is not. The hivemind picks at his consciousness, deciding whether or not to accept this foreign body. It accepts him.

At once, Omega’s consciousness starts to grow and solidify, absorbing the information that the hivemind pours into him, knowledge about the kaiju. About the Jaegers. About everything the Precursors knew to be true about the universe. Omega’s consciousness is large but slow and dormant. It is not made to handle this excess of information, not as it is now. 

To accommodate the data flooding his mind, Omega grows. Still parts of his mind rise and become active, waking up the beast that lay under the careful care of machinery and wires. Instincts of a monster rise to the surface, Noya’s perfectly crafted pseudo-brain processing the information as a real brain might. Omega wakes up, becomes aware of himself. Starts to form what Hinata could only call a sense of self.

_ Kaiju. Machine. Kaiju. Machine. Kaiju. Machine. _

Omega debates between the two identities, as clear in Hinata’s and Kageyama’s mind as a third human member of the Drift. Hinata can almost hear the _who am I who am I who am I_ echoing in Omega’s new mind. 

_ You’re one of us, _ Hinata thinks. Omega stills.

_ We’re your family, _ Kageyama thinks. _Do you remember all of our drops? Our missions? We’ve fought together for years._

Omega remembers.

The hivemind is open wide, whispering _death_ into the minds of the two humans and _hunt_ into the mind of the half-kaiju. _Hunt,_ the Precursors demand. _Kill. Destroy. Enemies._ Omega shudders under the weight of thousands of voices.

_ You don’t know them, _ Kageyama thinks. _You know us. You’ll always know us._

Over the com, Saeko is trying to get their attention, yelling for them to wake up. They’re so deep in the Drift that they’re in danger of being unable to rise out of it, as Kageyama had dragged them down once before. But Hinata is not afraid.

_ I am not afraid of you, _ he says to Omega. _What you are is not important. But who you are—who you are is one of us._

_ One of us, _ the hivemind hisses. _One of us. One of us. One of—_

Omega shoves the hivemind away with a heave of a mind much powerful than Hinata’s. He slams the bridge between them closed, linking instead with Hinata and Kageyama and forcing them to surge out of the depths of the Drift and back into consciousness. At Hinata’ side, Kageyama gasps. Hinata’s pants along with him, dizzy from being so deep, even for such a short period of time. His eyes snap open.

There’s something else, though. The pressure of Omega’s consciousness is gone. Instead, Hinata feels as though a massive, clawed paw has been placed on his shoulder and another on Kageyama’s. But it doesn’t feel menacing—just that same warm comfort that Omega gave off naturally.

_ Save them. _

Hinata grins, baring his teeth in a snarl. “That’s right,” he says. “We’re going to save them. So put everything you’ve got into this last fight.”

“Fight with us,” Kageyama says.

There’s a moment of silence, and then all of their controls promptly go dark. 

Kageyama’s brow furrows and he taps at his gauntlet, but it doesn’t come back to life. Their coms are down, too. Any movement control they had powers down. Projectile weapons, plasma cannons, swords—it’s all gone.

“Omega,” Hinata says. “What are you doing?”

In the next heartbeat, all the controls come back online, rebooting and shifting and readjusting themselves all on their own. Hinata catches a _‘what the **hell** is going on there?’_ from Saeko, before Omega shifts down to a crouch with no input on the part of his pilots. Hinata screeches in surprise.

_ Lead. _

_ The controls _ , Kageyama says. _The controls are too slow. Our movements are translated to signals to his brain which are then translated to movements. He shut it down. Now we guide him, brain to brain, instantly_.

_ Brilliant, _ Hinata says. _He’s brilliant_. Hinata closes his eyes once more, ready to try it. He imagines the holes from which the tentacles burst out, thinks of the fleshy skin wall, thinks of breaking through and digging through the body of the general until they found it and blasted it to pieces. He thinks of Ukai and Koushi, stranded in their Conn-Pod, slowly suffocating.

_ Kill our enemy,  _ Hinata and Kageyama say together. _Save our allies_.

There is a great cracking and trembling throughout the Conn-Pod, clacking Hinata’s teeth together. For a second he panics—had the general finally tired of their stalling and started to attack?

“No,” Kageyama says, in awe. “It’s coming from Omega.”

It builds like a tidal wave, a roar growing from deep inside Omega’s belly and rising through his throat. Hinata and Kageyama feel it. They feel the need to scream, to shout, to let out a battle cry. There’s a final, terrific crack, and Omega’s pseudo-jaws turned very real-jaws break from their restraints and part to let out a roar of challenge at the general. Hinata and Kageyama howl with him, feeling every pump of blood through their veins.

_ And what about the mouth? _ Hinata had asked Noya so long ago, when they first saw Tyrant Omega.

_ It’s nothing, just a design, _ Noya had said.

“Liar,” Kageyama murmurs under his breath. “Liar, liar, liar. He’s always been a kaiju in the disguise of a machine, and you knew it. From the moment we said we could feel his consciousness, you knew. You created a man-made kaiju, Noya-san.”

**Noya did _what_?** Saeko’s voice breaks in. **Omega, for Christ’s sake, what is happening?**

“Coms are back,” Hinata says. He presses the com. “Saeko-neesan, please tell Noya-san that he is one hell of a brilliant bastard.”

**Omega is…a kaiju?** Saeko says. 

“Yeah,” Hinata says. “And because of that, we’re going to win. We’ll bring them home.”

**You’re really and truly on your own this time Hinata, Kageyama,** Saeko says. **There’s nothing we can do to help you.**

“No need,” Kageyama says. “Ukai-san and Suga-san showed us the key to winning, and Omega is our trump card. Shouyou? Let’s go.”

“Over and out, Saeko-neesan,” Hinata says.

_ Let’s go, Omega, _ they say in unison.

Omega drops to all fours and bounds across the general’s back, Hinata and Kageyama guiding his path. They run over one, two shoulders, and then they dive into the biggest cavity between the first and second set of legs. 

_ Go for the heart, _ they say.

Omega blasts his way in with both plasma cannons at once, blowing the skin of the kaiju apart in seconds. He aims deep—shooting straight for the insides of the general, away from the tentacles that could throw them out.

The general snarls in anger, but unlike the first time when Hinata and Kageyama had delved into his body, they had no hesitation in going deep, the folds of skin and muscle and blood sealing the path behind them and surrounding them in darkness within the cavern of his body. They have the faint sense of swaying—the general’s attempt to dislodge them, but a futile effort given how fast they had gotten inside. He would have to carve himself up to remove them.

Omega turns on the floodlights, revealing more grey-blue wet kaiju muscle. He stops blasting altogether, with only two shots left in each of the clips. Instead he slices with the knives attached to his hands and with his teeth. Hinata and Kageyama are left without much to do but keep an eye out for the unexpected. 

Suddenly, Omega turns on the outside microphone. The sound of tearing meat and the squish of their progress into the general’s body fills the Conn-Pod.

_ Can you not, _ Hinata complains. _It’s gross._

_ No, wait, _ Kageyama says. _Listen._

Omega stops moving, and then Hinata hears it too. A heavy, heavy heartbeat, rattling Omega himself with the power of the vibration. It’s slow, steady—the confident heartbeat of a predator.

_ Omega, you’re… _ Hinata says. _You’re following the heartbeat. Brilliant._

_ You said it again, _ Kageyama says.

_ He is though, isn’t he? _ Hinata says.

_ He’s a hunter, _ Kageyama says. _He didn’t learn that from the hivemind. Jaeger means ‘hunter,’ you know._

Omega moves forward, the sound of the heartbeat getting louder with every meter of progress they make. And then, they come to a halt.

_ What’s wrong? _ Hinata asks. The HUD shows a large, grey wall blocking their path. _The hell is that?_

_ His rib, _ Kageyama says. _We’re close. Omega, you need to blast that with what we’ve got left in the clips._

Omega gives his assent by switching to plasma cannons and blowing a Jaeger-sized hole through the rib. The bone splitters and cracks, the sound traveling through the general’s body. It is followed by a roar from deep in the general’s belly of pure pain.

**Hinata, Kageyama,** Saeko says. She sounds eerily, forcibly calm. **Whatever you do, I suggest you do it faster. He’s coming for us—he’s headed straight for the Miyagi base.**

Hinata and Kageyama exchange wild, panicked glances. “He’s _what_?” Kageyama asks.

**He was rolling and scraping at his side,** Saeko says. **But I think he realizes whatever it is you’re doing. He’s going to kill everyone in this base out of vengeance.**

“Not gonna happen,” Hinata says. “Saeko-neesan, we’re coming. Hold on as long as you can.”

**Scrapper is trying to distract him, but we can’t hold on forever,** she says. **Please, hurry.**

_ Omega, _ Hinata says. _You have to **hurry**._

Omega feels his urgency. He snarls and tears at the muscles over the general’s heaving lungs. He doesn’t bother tearing through the lungs, instead, he goes under, following the curve of the general’s body to slide below the lungs. 

_ The sternum _ , Kageyama says. _Follow it; you’ll find the heart._

He crawls along it, each step moving closer to the beating of the general’s heart, picking up as he rushes the Miyagi base. And then, they see it. The heart is ugly and misshapen, with far more than the four chambers of humans. It swells and shakes with every heartbeat. Omega draws the plasma swords.

_ No mercy, _ Hinata and Kageyama say.

Omega slices the swords cleanly through the general’s heart, tearing the muscular walls apart and spilling kaiju blue all over himself and the inside of the kaiju, painting a bloody picture. The heart gives one final half-shudder, and then collapses. The general collapses, too. Hinata and Kageyama have the sensation of free-falling downwards.

_ It’s not over, _ Hinata says. _We have to save them._

So they do.

The three work their way up the general, searching for the trachea. When Omega finds it, he slices it open and climbs inside, clawing his way up the throat of the kaiju until they see the beaten and broken shape of Beta Monarch.

_ Quick! _ Hinata cries. 

Omega launches himself at the Jaeger, tearing it open with teeth and knives, as a kaiju might have done to destroy them. He shred metal and snaps wires until the Conn-Pod is visible.

_ No, _ Kageyama whispers.

It’s cracked. There’s kaiju blue and mucus soaking through into the recesses of the Conn-Pod, no doubt covering the pilots with the inhospitable toxicity of the kaiju’s fluids. There’s no way they would be able to survive overexposure to that kind of environment.

** They’re not dead! ** Noya shouts over the com.

** We still have faint life signs from Suga! ** Saeko says. 

“From Suga-san?” Kageyama says. “But…Ukai-san…”

And then it’s Takeda’s voice, fragile and close to breaking. **Please,** he says. **Please bring them home.**

Omega doesn’t need any prompting from Hinata or Kageyama. He ducks his head down and wraps his teeth carefully around the edges of the Conn-Pod. And then with the awful grating of metal on metal, he rips them out of Beta’s fallen form and safely into the grasp of his mouth. 

They burst from the general’s mouth by blowing out enough teeth for Omega to squeeze through. He catapults into the ocean, covered in tissue and muscle and blood from head to toe. On all fours, he raises his head and lets out a rattling growl through teeth still holding Beta’s Conn-Pod.

** Jesus, ** Noya says softly. **He’s…he’s a kaiju.** **He’s really, really a kaiju.**

** Quickly, ** Saeko urges. **He’s fading.**

Hinata and Kageyama urge Omega into a run, pushing the last of his strength into an all-out sprint to the base. They don’t wait for the doors to open—they plow right through with Tanaka’s guarantee that all staff members have been cleared. Omega collapses in the Shatterdome, finally opening his jaws to release Ukai and Koushi.

Hinata is sweating and still breathing fast. “What next, Saeko-neesan?” he says.

** Now, we pry you out of your Jaeger, ** Saeko says.

Hinata frowns. “But—”

** It’s over, ** she says. **He’s dead. The breach is closed. You did it—you saved the world.**

Hinata doesn’t feel like he saved the world. He’s still on-edge, ready for action. His nerves are strung tight, waiting to snap. He can feel Kageyama, too. They’re both still tensed for a fight, no matter what Saeko says.

_ Rest. _

Omega doesn’t leave room for argument. With the general’s death, the strength and presence of the hivemind is fading, the glow of his alien halo dying. Already, Hinata and Kageyama can feel Omega’s consciousness slipping from their minds, regressing into the slow-moving half-alive thing they knew so well.

“Don’t go,” Hinata blurts out, can’t control himself.

“Shouyou,” Kageyama says. “It’s okay. He knew this would happen.”

“You did well,” Hinata says. “They won’t know that you saved us. But we will. We’ll always know.”

_ Family _ , Omega says, and Hinata feels a tear slide down his cheek.

\---------------------------------

Hinata opens his eyes.

The sun beats down on the helipads, heating up the asphalt and warming Hinata’s skin until he glows. There’s not a cloud in the sky, just flawless blue as far as the eye can see. Hinata surveys the Miyagi base as if it were his kingdom, sun-kissed and golden. Even in his stiff uniform, Hinata finds he can be comfortable in the late morning light.

“It’s time.” Kageyama’s voice calls to him, and Hinata turns in his wheelchair.

Kageyama holds out a hand and Hinata takes it, pressing it to his cheek. “Are they here?” he asks.

“Yes,” Kageyama says. “We’re just waiting for you.”

“Then by all means,” Hinata says, “lead the way.”

The tides of Miyagi base staff flowing through the base is leisurely, content with peace time. Hinata and Kageyama get bows and greetings of ‘sir’ as they pass, moving just as slow as the rest of the base. The intensity of base life has been replaced with the ease of preparation. Rebuild, regrow. A squad of cadets runs by in formation, no doubt the latest batch to be tested and trained for the Jaeger Program. 

The doors to the Shatterdome are open wide, welcoming. Hinata takes a deep breath as they pass through the doors. He breathes in the scent of motor oil and machinery, absorbs the sounds of shouting and pounding of metal on metal and drills and blowtorches. The Miyagi base could sleep for now, but the Shatterdome would never be truly quiet.

Above Hinata and Kageyama, the countdown clock shows seven years. 

“Seven years will sneak up on us faster than we realize,” Tsukishima mutters. “People shouldn’t be so complacent.”

“Aw, don’t be like that Kei,” Yamaguchi says with a grin, “People will think you’re anxious to hop in a Jaeger again.”

“Oh, did you make your decision?” Hinata asks, rolling up to the pair of pilots. “Are you staying?”

Tsukishima clicks his tongue. “Akiteru is getting transferred to the best hospital in Tokyo. They said they’ll take care of him for the rest of his life, but I don’t believe a word of it. I’m staying here to make sure he stays there.”

“Also, he likes me,” Yamaguchi says.

“Like hell I’d trust someone else Drifting with you,” Tsukishima says, shrugging one shoulder. “There aren’t that many jobs that say ‘No right arm? No problem!’” The stump of his right arm is covered by the long sleeve of his uniform. Tsukishima reaches for it instinctually.

“No picking at it,” Yamaguchi says. “You’ll take out the stitches.”

“Thanks, _Mom_ ,” Tsukishima says. He ruffles Yamaguchi’s hair fondly.

“Gross, affection,” Bokuto says too cheerfully from behind Hinata and Kageyama. “How goes it, one-arm?”

“You tell me, one-eye,” Tsukishima replies dryly. 

Bokuto laughs. His eye is covered with a very pirate-looking eyepatch. Of all the injuries collected, Bokuto took to his the best. Although ‘best’ in this case meant that he adopted the persona of a pirate and proceeded to run into almost everything and everyone by accident because of his faulty depth perception. A few times into Akaashi and Kuroo on purpose, too, so that he could cop a feel.

Behind Bokuto, Akaashi moves slower, still recovering from the deep scarring on their back. The scarring wasn’t visible unless they removed their shirt, but the damage was immense. Akaashi had sustained nerve damage and the complete shredding of their skin. they needed skin grafts, but even then, it was obvious that he had seen some action.

Akaashi is accompanied by Kuroo and Kenma, both looking more solemn than usual. “Kuroo has an announcement he’d like to make,” Akaashi says.

Kuroo offers the group a lopsided smile. “Kou and Kenma already know what I’m going to tell you,” Kuroo says. “In light of the loss of Marshal Ukai, I hate to be the bearer of more bad news. We’ve already lost so much—friends, functionality, innocence. All of us have been damaged irreparably in some way that will continue to haunt us.

“That being said,” Kuroo continues. “You’re alive. We’re all alive. We beat an impossible enemy; we saved the world. We’re like the Avengers or some shit, and that’s pretty cool. So I want all of you to be happy and live long, prosperous lives. Seek help if you need it. Love with as much heart as you can. Experience what you can while you’re still around.”

Kuroo smiles. “I’m dying.”

Kenma closes their eyes. Bokuto's smile grows brittle. 

“It’s okay,” Kuroo says. “I knew something like this was bound to happen. Kenma and I couldn’t pilot the way we do and not take damage. Kenma’s got the Anteverse and I, I’ve got cancer. Too much pressure, moving that Jaeger all by myself. Did _bad_ shit to my body.”

“Kuroo…” Yamaguchi says softly.

Bokuto puts an arm around Kuroo and an arm around Yamaguchi, pulling them close. “Come on,” he says. “Let’s bring it in.” 

The pilots—even Tsukishima crowd together for a hug, holding each other tightly. All Rangers had some kind of connection, a shared life experience, but for them, it was something greater. They had grown together and fought together and laid down their life for each other. As long as any of them lived, there would never be a bond like this between Jaeger teams.

“Ugh, Take-chan, did I really have to be assigned to these losers?”

“They are a bit embarrassing, aren’t they, Oikawa-san?” 

Kuroo and Bokuto lift their heads, wonder in their eyes. “Tooru?” Kuroo says softly. 

They break up the hug to see Oikawa Tooru, not a hair out of place and bomber jacket thrown over his uniform. He’s got a duffle bag in one hand and the other on his hip. He shoots the pilots a grin. “Hey losers,” he says.

Bokuto and Kuroo jump him, almost tackling him to the ground with the weight of their embrace.

“Okay, okay, okay!” Oikawa laughs. “I get it, you’re happy to see me, Jesus.”

“You got released from hospital?” Bokuto asks.

Oikawa shakes his head. “I was released a long while ago. No, I’m here on business.”

“Not…not piloting,” Kuroo says.

“Nah,” Oikawa says. “I’m here for Take-chan—we’re the co-Marshals assigned to this base now.”

“A promotion!” Bokuto laughs. “Finally!”

“Oikawa Tooru,” Koushi’s voice breaks through. “I don’t believe it.” 

Koushi joins the group wheeled in by Ennoshita. He has a soft, fond smile on his face looking at all the assembled. “It’s alright,” he says to their wide eyes. “I know I’m not a very pretty picture.”

Even with Omega’s rescue, they hadn’t been fast enough to stop the acidic mucus and saliva and blood of the general from burning through Koushi’s drivesuit and burning large portions of his skin. He’s had skin grafts as well, but the evidence of his scarring is far more visible than Akaashi’s, covering him from head to toe.

Oikawa approaches him and kneels, taking Koushi’s hand and pressing a light kiss to it. “You still smile as beautifully as ever, Suga-chan,” he says, offering a small smile. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“And I, yours,” Koushi says softly, holding Oikawa’s gaze. 

“Suga-san,” Kageyama says.

Koushi raises his eyes to Kageyama and Hinata. “My rookies,” he says warmly. “Well, I suppose you’re not really rookies anymore.” He holds out his arms and they rush to his side, embracing him carefully.

“I owe you my life,” he says. “I won’t ever forget that. I’m sure Daichi and Ukai and Iwaizumi are looking down on you both right now with the greatest pride they’ve ever felt. You’re two fine young Rangers.”

Kageyama bows at the waist and Hinata dips his head, both with tears in their eyes.

“Takeda-san,” Hinata says, turning to Takeda. “About Ukai-san, I—”

Takeda smiles. “He knew what he risked. There was nothing you or any of us could do, no matter how frustrating. I think—” Takeda breaks off, blinking rapidly. “No. I _know_ he wanted to protect you. He had a responsibility and a debt—and he paid it. I think he rests easy now. I hope he does.”

Koushi and Oikawa move to either side of Takeda, taking his hands in their own. “We’re with you, Take-chan,” Oikawa says.

“To the end,” Koushi agrees.

“All of us are,” Tsukishima says, getting nods from the other pilots.

“Oh jeez,” Takeda says, wiping at his eyes. “I didn’t mean to make this into a teary event. This is a celebration and a sendoff! Bokuto-san, Akaashi-san—you’ll be headed off to Tokyo, won’t you?”

“That’s right,” Akaashi says. “We’ll be accompanying Tetsurou and Kenma back.”

“You know us,” Bokuto says, shrugging one shoulder. “We’re loners; can’t stay in one place for too long.”

“You’ll always have a home here if you need it,” Koushi says.

“We appreciate it,” Akaashi says, both of them bowing.

Takeda turns to Tsukishima and Yamaguchi. “Well!” he says. “I guess we’re in need of a new point team, if you’re up to it.”

Yamaguchi snaps a smart salute, beaming.

Tsukishima sighs but bows his head. “Better us than the freaky kaiju-Jaeger duo.”

“No need to worry about that,” Hinata says. “We’re retiring.”

“Oh?” Yamaguchi says. “But I thought Tanaka-san and Noya-san said they could fix Omega?”

“They can,” Kageyama says. “But it would probably be dangerous for us to continue.”

“Hinata-san will be helping with the cadet selection, and Kageyama will be taking over as the Kwoon Room Master.”

“Taking over?” Akaashi says, frowning. “Then, Shimizu-san—”

Takeda grins. “Allow me to introduce our new flank team—Shimizu-san and Yachi-san!”

Kiyoko approaches in a drivesuit, the same slim, wetsuit-like fit of Hinata and Kageyama’s. Practically clinging to her back is a tiny fluff of blonde hair with frightened eyes peeping over her shoulder. 

Kiyoko dips her head. “Shimizu Kiyoko, at your service,” she says. “It will be my pleasure to pilot once more.” She turns to the tiny girl behind her. “Go on.” Her voice is warm. “Introduce yourself.”

The girl steps from her mentor’s shadow with wobbly knees. Her cheeks are flushed and she bows very deeply. “Y-Yachi Hitoka!” she introduces herself. “It’s a pleasure to work with you—!”

“Yachi-san, huh?” Hinata says, smiling at her. “I didn’t see your name on the cadet list.”

Her eyes go wide. “I’m not—I’m not trying anything tricky!” she says, waving her hands. “I’m not trying to sneak in or, or cut ahead of other people!”

“I selected her personally,” Kiyoko says. “She was signed up to train for Mission Control, but I spotted her and I knew she was my partner. We’re Drift compatible; we’ll be piloting the first Mark VI, Phoenix Empress, once she’s complete.”

“Um,” Yachi says. “I know it may seem like I’m not fully committed to being a pilot, but…” She swallows. “I really admire the Jaeger pilots. I always thought, ‘I’m not strong. I could never be like them.’ But…but Kiyoko-san is showing be that there’s more to strength than muscle or confidence.” She straightens up, meets Hinata’s eyes. “I’m persistent! And I’m committed! I won’t stop until I can be a real pilot!”

Hinata grins. “You’ll fit in just fine then.”

Yachi beams.

“Is this base always so sappy?” Oikawa stage-whispers to Kageyama.

“It certainly is loud and dramatic,” Kageyama says. “You’ll fit right in, Oikawa-san.”

Oikawa ruffles Kageyama’s hair despite his grumbling. “You’re a good kid, Tobio-chan,” Oikawa says. “I look forward to annoying the hell out of you.”

Koushi watches the pilots merge and mingle, new and old. They embrace and brush shoulders, familiarizing themselves with their allies, getting to know each other. _This_ is the spirit of brotherhood in the Jaeger Program, the spirit of victory over impossible odds. To see war and hell, and to still have arms wide open and love in their hearts.

Koushi turns to Takeda. “Do you think they see all of this?” he asks.

Takeda nods. “They see us. And I think they’re proud of what they see.”

_ We slow for no one _

_ We go where no one goes _

_ We slow for no one _

_ We go where no one, _

_ We go where no one, _

_ Goes _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //fin.
> 
> the chapter to follow is my attempt to pay homage to all the wonderful people who created fanworks for my fic, so feel free to peruse that selection. in fact, i encourage it!
> 
> as always, i recommend sam ficteer's [break on the willow shore](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2430890/chapters/5381657), which takes place seven years after the events of but for me, there is a storm. i am currently taking a hiatus from writing haikyuu, but no doubt i will return...for now, you can find me nestled snugly in the bnha fandom.
> 
> finally, i'm making this work a series simply because there are some post-bfmtias elements i would like to explore, including but not limited to: kiyoyachi working together as pilots, suga and oikawa's relationship, kuroo's death and the aftermath, and some early ukai and takeda. 
> 
> well, this is it for the pacific rim au's from me, folks! or is it...................

**Author's Note:**

> twitter: [**@sleepyficteer**](https://twitter.com/sleepyficteer) tumblr: [**setter-kun**](http://setter-kun.tumblr.com/)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [untitled](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3635751) by [richterscaler](https://archiveofourown.org/users/richterscaler/pseuds/richterscaler)
  * [take me with you](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5106689) by [atsueshi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/atsueshi/pseuds/atsueshi)




End file.
